
1877 
Copy 



I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS J 

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1 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, f 



a 



- 



"~Iui\al Rhymes 



AND 



POEMS FROM /FARM, 



BEING A 



COLLECTION OF POEMS, 



GRAVE, HUMOROUS, DIDACTIC, SENTIMENTAL 
AND DESCRIPTIVE, 



WRITTEN AT DIFFERENT TIMES AND UNDER DIFFERENT 
CIRCUMSTANCES, 

MAKTIN RICE, 



KANSAS CITY: 

RAMSEY, MILLETT & HUDSON. 

1877. 



' \8l1 



Entered According to Act of Congress, in the year One Thousand Eight 
Hundred and Seventy-seven, 

By MARTIN RICE, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 




TO THE READER. 

Far from the city's noisy din, 

Far from its bustle and alarm, 
We had our being first within 

The limits of an humble farm. 
From out its cool, sequestered shade, 

In different ways at different times, 
We came ; and when together laid 

Are simply styled the " Rural Rhymes." 

From out a toiling farmer's brain 

We had our birth.— No matter when, 
If we can your attention chain, 

And edify the minds of men ; 
And though we may not soar as high 

As Milton's thoughts in former times y 
Oh ! let it be no reason why 

You should not read the " Rural Rhymes." 

And though we may not live as did 

Old Homer's verse and Ossian's lays, 
Let not our simple truths be hid 

By greater names of other days. 
Though thousand years we may not live, 

As poems have from Eastern climes, 
May we a transient pleasure give 

To those who read the " Rural Rhymes." 



TO THE READER. 

And though not gorgeously arrayed 

In soaring language, full and pure, 
Remember gorgeous colors fade, 

While simpler colors long endure. 
Then may the simple truths we speak 

Fall on the heart with pleasing chimes, 
And often may each reader seek 

New beauties in the " Rural Rhymes." 

Yours respectfully, 

M. RICE. 



RURAL RHYMES. 



WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. 

When at a distant future day 

You cast your eye upon this page, 

The writer may be far away, 

Or may have left life's busy stage. 

Though ocean's waves should roll between 
These lines of mine, my friends and me ; 

Yet, think of me and what I've been, 
When these few lines you chance t%see. 

And should I lie, low in the ground, 
And dark oblivion's waves roll o'er ; 

This simple page will then be found, 
A monument on memory's shore. 

'Twill point your thoughts from present things 
To things that long have passed away, 

And long forgotten scenes 'twill bring 
To your awakened memory. • 

Then view this page, as you would view 
A friend's cold monumental stone ; 

And oh ! may we again renew 

Our friendship near the jasper throne. 



RURAL RHYMES 



And when we meet beyond the stars, 
Within that radiant world of bliss, 

Our friendship will be purer far 

Than that which we have known in this. 



A WORLD OF CHANGE IS THIS. 

This is a changing world of ours, 

A world of change is this; 
All fading are its fairest flowers, 

And transient every bliss. 

Yes ; change is written on the face 
Of everything beneath the sun ; 

And short and devious the race 
That we poor mortals run. 

The friends who prize us most to-day, 

May be the first to leave ; 
And those we prize the dearest, may 

Our fondest hopes deceive. 

Or Death, perhaps, uncalled may come, 
And snatch those friends from us. 

Ah ! do we not remember some 
Who have been taken thus ? 

Where, where are those we held so dear. 

The friends of early youth ? 
The grave replies, " I have them here;" 

And 'tis a mournful truth. 



DEATH OF A FRIEND IN 1 856. 

Then let the years revolving roll 
With Time's incessant flow ; 

We soon shall reach a brighter goal, 
No further change to know. 



DEATH OF A FRIEND IN 1856. 

I stood beside a dying friend, 
And watched his parting breath ; 

And when I saw his struggles end, 
I asked can this be Death ? 

Full well I know 'tis temporal death — 

The rending of the screen 
That hides from mortals here beneath, 

The world we have not seen. 

But there's another death than this, 

A death that never dies; 
And there's a life of joy and bliss, 

A life beyond the skies. 

For " 'Tis not all of life to live, 

Nor all of death to die." 
The fleeting joys this earth can give, 

Are nought to those on high. 

Then let us try, while here on earth, 

In this lone vale of sighs, 
To shun that ever-dying death, 

Which never, never dies ; 



RURAL RHYMES. 

And seek that life, that living life, 
That's only known above — 

Where joys, perpetual joys are rife, 
And God is served in love. 

There may I meet that friend again, 
Whose sufferings here are o'er ; 

And range with him the heavenly plain, 
Where sufferings are no more. 

Then let me bid thee welcome, Death, 
W r hen thou shalt rend the screen 

That hides from mortals here beneath, 
The world we have not seen. 



TO A FRIEND. 



Written in an Album. 



The time may shortly come when we 

By distance may be parted ; 
Our joys may fade and hopes may flee, 

And plans of life.be thwarted. 
Long years may pass, ere we again 

Shall see each other's faces ; 
And anxious care, with grief and pain, 

May leave on us their traces 

But let me hope, what e'er may come, 
What e'er may be life's changes ; 

W T here e'er I be, where e'er I roam, 
As Providence arranges ; 

That you will not forget the friend 
Who pens these lines so simple, 



• 



THE SNOW-FLAKE. 

But may your prayers for him ascend 
And reach the inner temple. 

Perhaps in coming years you '11 see 

(In looking o'er these pages,) 
These lines of mine. Then think of me, 

And think of by-gone stages : 
For life is like a traveling scene, 

Where passengers are meeting ; 
Thev meet, they part, — how oft, how soon, 

Farewell succeeds to greeting. 



THE SNOW-FLAKE. 

To a Friend. 

A flake of snow, both large and light, 

Was formed in upper air, 
And passing o'er a mountain's height, 

Slowly descended there. 

But ere it fell upon the crest, 

'Twas parted into two, 
And driven on the wintry blast, 

In different currents flew. 

One fell upon the western slope, 

And one upon the east ; 
And there they both lay frozen up, 

For twenty weeks at least. 

But when the sun again shone warm, 

And shed his genial rays, 
They melted to a liquid form, 

And glided different ways. 



RURAL RHYMES. 

Uniting now with other drops, 
They form two tiny streams, 

And trickle down the mountain slopes. 
Where many a glacier gleams. 

Adown the mountain's different sides, 
Toward different points they run ; 

And further from each other glides 
Those flakes which once were one. 

Now wider, and still wider, grows 
The space which lies between ; 

And faster, and still faster, flows 
The streams which they are in. 

Still onward borne away, away, 
To east and western main ; 

Alas ! alas ! will ever they 
Be joined in one again ? 

Two kindred minds to them compare, 
By friendship joined as one ; 

Parted by trifles light as air, 
Two different paths to run. 

The separation, small at first, 

Grows wider by degrees ; 
Till, thoughts and actions all reversed, 

They 're merged in different seas. 

Oh, may it never be our lot 

To be divided thus ; 
But ever may the self same spot 

Be occupied by us*. 



* Two thousand miles now separate the wtiter from the friend to whom 
these lines were addressed. 



VANITY OF VANITIES ; ALL IS VANITY, 



VANITY OF VANITIES : AIL IS VANITY 

Hurrying on, and onward still, 

Trifles light we all pursue ; 
Grasping after shadows till 

Death's dark shade appears in view. 
Vain are all things here on earth, 
Well we know. 
Bliss, in vain, on earth is sought, 
For, with disappointments fraught, 
All our schemes have come to naught, 
Here below. 

What is wealth, and what is fame, 

After which we 're toiling so ? 
Soon we go from whence we came ;. 
t Dust we are, to dust we go. 

What are earthly pleasures then, 
When compared ? 
Worse than vanity and dust, 
And in them if we shall trust, 
Death will call and go we must, 
Unprepared. 

Early friendships — what are they ? 

Sunny spots within life's vale. 
But, alas ! they pass away 

When the storms of grief prevail, 
Leaving us in darkness then, 
All alone. 
But the friendship that will last 
When our lives are overcast, 
Leads us home, and binds us fast, 
To the throne. 



RURAL RHYMES. 

PASSING A WA Y. 

Lines to a Friend. Written in an Album . 

When days have passed, and first you see 

These hasty lines of mine, 
Then, as a friend, pray think of me, 

And count me one of thine. 

When weeks have passed away, and you 

Shall look this page upon ; 
In counting o'er your friends so true, 

May I be numbered one. 

When months have passed, and soon they must, 

And you shall read again, 
Upon your list of friends, I trust, 

My name will still remain. 

When years have passed, and you again 

Shall read these pages o'er, 
In your esteem may I remain, 

A friend, if nothing more. 

When /have passed from Earth away — 

And soon that time may be — 
When you shall see these lines, you may 

Perhaps remember me. 

When you and /shall both have passed, 

And bade the world adieu, 
Then may our friendship everlast, 

Eternal ages through. 

When Earth and earthly things have passed, 

And Time shall be no more, 
O that our lots may then be cast 

Upon a friendly shore. 



TWENTY YEARS PAST. 15 

TWENTY YEARS PAST. 

A Reminiscence Written in 1854. 

On Sabbath last past I to Church did repair, 

To the house of the Lord at Lone Jack ; 
But throughout the service of preaching and prayer, 

My memory hurried me back, 
Back twenty years, back to the time I first heard 

The gospel proclaimed in the West. 
'Tis the same gospel yet, 'tis the same written word, 

Whilst other things widely contrast. 

The face of the country has undergone change, 

And manners and customs change, too ; 
And numbers of faces I see that are strange, 

And gone are the friends I then knew. 
I remember the time, I remember the place, 

I remember the friends who were there ; — 
Those years have sped round, and it seems a brief space, 

But not one of those friends are now here. 

I remember the preacher*, whose time-furrowed face 

Was so oft bedewed with a tear. 
His doctrines were plain, and plain was his dress, 

For 'twas made from the skin of the deer. 
But he, too, has gone, and no more will I hear 

A message of truth from his lips : 
On Earth he has finished his mortal career. 

And far in the South he now sleeps. 

We assembled that day in a rude cabin small ; 
'Twas the home of a brave pioneerf . 



* James Savage. f Thos. Hamlin. 



J 6 RURAL RHYMES. 

The attendance was larger than usual — yet all 

Who wished it obtained a seat there. 
That cabin still stands, though years have rolled round, 

And its builder has moved far away ; 
A spacious brick house on the farm now is found, 

And the cabin goes fast to decay. 

Then radiant with hope, in life's morning so bright, 

My brother and I did repair, 
With hearts and with steps both elastic and light, 

To the house of devotion and prayer. 
But, now all in vain I may look for the face 

Of that brother, so sunny, so mild ; 
I will see him no more upon Earth, for, alas ! 

He sleeps in the far western wild. 

My father and mother were there on that day, 

And their names m the church were enrolled ; 
But, ah ! that dear father, by Death called away, 

Now sleeps in the grave-yard so cold : 
Oh grief upon grief, for he sleeps not alone, — 

My kindred have followed apace ; — 
Three brothers, a sister, a daughter, a son, 

Lie low in the same resting place. 

And perhaps ere the earth shall again revolve round 

The great source of light and of heat, 
I, too, may rest with them, beneath the cold ground, 

And this laboring heart cease to beat. 

When ) ears have rolled round, and survivors meet here 

To worship the God of all grace, 
Perhaps I may meet, in a happier sphere, 

Those friends who have ended their race. 



i'm sitting by your side, marv. 17 

I'M SITTING BY YOUR SIDE, MARY. 

Written in 1856, in Imitation of The Irish Emigrant. 

I'm sitting by your side, Mary, 

Upon your dying bed ;' 
And busy thoughts are coursing through 

My pained and aching heart. 

I'm thinking of the time, Mary, 

When you and I first met ; 
And though our parting is at hand, 

That meeting's present yet. 

Long years have passed since then, Mary, 

And changes have occurred, 
But oh ! a sadder change than all 

Can not be long deferred. 

Your bloodless lips, your pallid cheek, 

Too plainly tell the tale, 
That you are passing now, Mary, 

Thiough death's dark gloomy vale. 

I'm sitting by your side, Mary, 

Although you see me not, 
And when you're taken from my sight 

You will not be forgot. 

I'll think of you my Mary dear, 

In days and years to come ; 
Who shared my joys and sorrows here, 

In this our humble home. 

And oh ! I'm thinking now, Mary, 

My true my constant wife ; 
How lonely and how drearily, 

Will pass my future life. 



l8 RURAL RHYMES. 

Each scene will but remind me still, 
Of days and years gone by ; 

And cherished objects, often will 
Call forth the tearful sigh. 

I'm gazing on this quilt, Mary, 
This quilt of patchwork made ; 

'Twas wrought by your own hands before 
Your beauty had decayed. 

And though 'tis worn and faded now, 

I prize it none the less ; 
For mongst its squares, I recognize 

Part of your wedding dress. 

I'm thinking of our sons, Mary, 
Our sons and daughters too ; 

When you have gone and left us here, 
What will those children do ; 

They'll have no mother's kind advice, 
No mother's watchful care ; 

To keep them from the paths of vice, 
And from the tempter's snare. 

You'r bidding me a last farewell, 

My Mary kind and true ; 
But soon I hope to reach the clime, 

That you are going to. 

In that fair clime there's room for all ; 

And there's no parting there ; 
No death, no sorrow can be found, 

In all that region fair. 



LIFE AND DEATH. 1 9 

LIFE AND DEATH. 

Like Leaflets in the autumn sere, 

Our friends are round us falling ; 
And we who still are lingering here, 

But wait the masters calling. 
The chilling winds of death ere long, 

Will one by one pass o'er us ; 
And bear us to that buried throng 

Of friends who've gone before us. 

Like stars declining in the west, 

One after one they're sinking, 
Within the silent tomb to rest, 

From which we're vainly shrinking; 
And we like them, will sink ere long ; 

(We too are fast declining;) 
And soon will cease to shine among 

The stars that may be shining. 

Like roses which in beauty bloom, 

One after one they wither ; 
Their beauty buried in the tomb, 

For death still bears them thither ; 
And we who on the parent stem 

A little while yet linger ; 
Will soon be snatched away like them, 

By death's cold icy finger. 

Like streamlets from the mountain side, 

Which haste to join the river ; 
One after one they onward glide, 

With none returning ever ; 
And we are moving downward too, 

Down to deaths river gliding ; 



RURAL RHYMES. 



Our days on earth at most are few, 
There's nothing here abiding. 

« 



IMMORTALITY, OR ANSWER TO LIFE AND 
DEATH. 

The leaflets in autumn may wither and fade, 

The forest be naked and bare ; 
The friends of our youth, in the grave may be laid. 

And we may be laid with them there; 
But the winter will pass, and the spring will return. 

And the forest again will be green ; 
And the faithful who sleep in death's mouldering urn. 

Will arise and in glory be seen. 

The stars in the sky to the west may decline, 

May be shrouded in darkness and gloom ; 
Our friends and our loved ones may languish and pine. 

Or may die and be laid in the tomb. 
But again the stars in the east will arise, 

And bright and effulgent will shine, 
And the faithful in Christ will again realize 

A life that is truly divine. 

The roses in beauty which bloom for awhile 

May wither, may fade, and may die — 
Our friends and companions, in labor and toil, 

In graves all forgotten may lie ; 
lint the season of roses again will return, 

And brighter than ever they'll bloom, 
And we, in the land of the blessed, shall discern 

Our friends when they come from the tomb. 



I AM STANDING BY YOUR GRAVE, MARY. 21 

The stream from the mountain still downward may flow. 

And our friends, like its waters, be borne 
To the valley of death, and we in our woe 

The lost and the loved ones may mourn. 
But God in his power that stream can renew, 

From fountains by nature supplied — 
Can raise from their graves the faithful and true, 

To dwell with that Savior who died. 

The rose and the leaflet may wither and fade, 

The star and the streamlet may sink ; 
Our friends and companions may sleep in death's shade, 

And we of grief's chalice may drink ; 
But let us not yield to despondence and dread — 

The day star will cheer us again, 
And the lost and the loved ones who sleep with the dead 

Will arise and eternally reign. 



/ AM STANDING BY YOUR GRAVE, MARY. 

Written in the Churchyard. 

I'm standing by your grave, Mary, 

And 'tis a lonely place ; 
I look upon your lowly bed, 

But ne'er shall see your face ; 
That dear familiar face. 

Three years and more have passed, Mary, 

Since here they laid you down ; 
And life is now a wintry day, • 

And dark is fortune's frown ; 

How dark to me that frown ! 



RURAL RHYMES. 

Adown the stream of time, Mary, 

Alone I'm drifting now, 
And grief still writes its marks upon 

Your husband's saddened brow ; 
My grief and careworn brow. 

I think upon my comforts dead, 
Those by-gone days of yore ; 

But with my Mary they have fled, 
And they'll return no more ; 

No more, no more, no more ! 

Our son and daughter sleep, Mary. 

Hard by this marble stone ; 
Our tears together flowed for them. 

But now I weep alone ; 
Alone, alone, alone ! 

Alone, alone I seem to be, 

In this dark vale of woe ; 
But though you may not come to me, 

Soon, soon to you I'll go ; 
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go! 

In faith and hope I'll rest, Mary, 

Whatever may betide, 
Till death shall lay ray body low 

And place it by your side ; 

To sleep here by your side. 

With faith and hope in God I'll trust. 

That when death's reign is o'er, 
Then, numbered with the good and just. 

We'll meet to part no more ; 

No more, no more, no more ! 



HOPE DEFERRED. 23 

HOPE DEFERRED. 

Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: But when the desire cometh it is a 
tree of life. — Prov. 13:12. 

The clause before the colon read 

I feel and know is true ; 
My heart is sick, my joys are dead, 

And hope is dying too. 

I hoped against e'en hope itself, 

But hope has been in vain ; 
Against despair I nerved myself, 

And scorned even to complain. 

Bowed down beneath the sick'ning weight 

Of hope so long deferred ; 
I strove against my hapless fate 

Without a murmuring word. 

Hope on, hope ever, still hope on, 

My motto once I made, 
But now my last fond hope is gone 

On which my heart was stayed. 

That latter clause — oh, say ! shall I 

Its truth e'er realize? 
And if I may not, then say why 

Live longer here in sighs ? 

What now is life when hope has fled ? 

A dreary, cheerless waste, 
With clouds of sorrow overspread 

And by their storms defaced. 

Oh, that those storms might but subside, 

Those clouds of grief disperse ! 
And may I feel the truth implied 

In closing: of that verse. 



24 RURAL RHYMES. 

FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY. 

To a Friend. 

Once I thought that Hope was dead — 

'Twas when you saw me last- 
Then Faith gave way to doubt and dread, 
But Charity stood fast. 

And still the hues of Hope will fade, 

And Faith is faltering oft ; 
But Charity comes to my aid 

And bids me look aloft. 

Hope faintly cheers us through life's vale, 

Faith points us to the end ; 
But Chanty will never fail 

To comfort and befriend. 

Both Faith and Hope must perish when 

We to the end have come, 
But Charity will flourish then 

In an ever blissful home. 

The charity which here we have 

May somewhat selfish be, 
But charity beyond the grave 

From selfishness is free. 

Blessed Charity upbraideth not — 
Is kind, and suffereth long — 

Ne'er envieth another's lot, 
Nor doeth another wrong. 

Then give me Charity, I pray, 

Whatever else withheld ; 
So shall my tears be wiped away, 

And all my fears be quelled. 



TO AN ABSENT SON. 25 

TO AN ABSENT SON 

Written in 1858 for an aged mother to a youthful son who had wandered 
away to the Land of Gold That mother yet lives (1877), but the son, who re- 
turned in compliance with her prayer, fell amongst the thousands who fell in 
the great war of 1861.* 

My son, my son, my youngest one, 

The source of many a joy ! 
Though far away from me you've gone, 

I'll not forget my boy. 

Though you may roam away from home, 

Beneath another sky, 
Or ride upon the ocean's foam, 

Still, still for you I'll sigh. 

Though valleys green may intervene, 

And sandy deserts, too — 
Though lofty mountains rise between, 

My thoughts revert to you. 

I have not yet, nor can forget 

When, with your presence blessed, 

I passed the time, ere you had set 
Your face to the far west. 

Nor yet can I forbear to sigh, 

When I your shadow see, 
To think that it is here so nigh 

And you so far from me. 

That dismal day you went away 

Still haunts my memory too, 
And in your letter last you say 

My warning words were true. 



* See The Soldier from the Kansas line. 



26 RURAL RHYMES. 

Return, return, my son, return ! 

If not too great the task ! 
Do not my poor petition spurn, 

The last I e'er may ask. 

My daily prayer and wishes are, 

Before I sink in death, 
That God my youngest son may spare 

To watch my parting breath. 

But years may pass, and I alas ! 

May sink into the grave, 
Ere you can hurry home across 

The briny ocean wave. 

Once more I say, once more I pray. 

That you will home return ; 
But if you must or will say nay, 

Still o'er my son I'll yearn. 

And if it be that I shall see 
Your face on earth no more, 

I trust that in eternity 

We'll meet and part no more. 



WILLIES GRAVE. 

Within that consecrated ground, 

The village church) ard, may be found 

A little tear-besprinkled mound, 

Where Willie sleeps in quietness. 

In death's cold vesture now arrayed, 
Beneath that mound so lately made. 



WILLIES GRAVE. ' 27 

A father's pride is lowly laid, 
And he is left in loneliness. 

A mother's earthly joys have fled — 
Her only son, her Willie's dead, 
And lies within that lonely bed, 

A floweret pale and withering. 

They see no more his cheering smile, 
His presence will no more beguile 
Their labors through a world of toil, 
Of sorrow, and of suffering. 

But oh, there is a vacant place 
Within that household, and a trace 
Of tears is on the mother's face, 

Who weeps almost despairingly. 

Grief sits a guest, with visage pale ; 
But tears and sighs will ne'er avail 
To bring the lost one from the vale 
Where he is resting silently. 

Oh, death ! how poignant is thy sting ! 
Oh, grave ! relentless ! thou canst bring- 
The stoutest hearts to sorrowing, 
And teach them all is vanity. 

From out thy dark and silent urn, 
Dear Willie, will no more return. 
And we who here awhile sojourn, 
But haste to join him rapidly. 

Father and mother, mourn him not, 
Though lonely now may be your lot, 
And dark and gloomy is the spot 

Where he is sleeping dreamlessly. 



28 RURAL RHYMES. 

Your Willie lives beyond the grave, 
For He who died the lost to save 
Has borne him o'er the troubled wave, 
To dwell in bright eternity. 



THE SONG OF THE SEA SHELL. 

I came from the ocean, the 4 ee P briny ocean ; 

From out of its caverns of mystery grand ; 
And when it was lashed into wildest commotion 

I rode on its billows and fell on the sand. 

And there 'mongst my fellows, who fell there before me, 

Not long did I lie in the sunlight to rest ; 
A lady passed by and she carefully bore me 
To grace a fair home in the far distant West. 

And now in that home, far, far from the ocean, 

From harp and piano flow music divine ; 
But the voice within me betrays my emotion — 

The roar of the sea is the music that's mine.* 

I pine for my home in the east, whence she brought me ; 

I sigh for the depths of the ocean again ; 
And the song that I sing is the one which it taught me — 

The roar of the deep and the wide spreading main. 

Mysterious links to the ocean have bound me ; 

Those links to the rolling salt waters will cling ; 
Whilst I, in the hearing of those who surround me, 

The song of the billows incessantly sing. 



: Alluding to the roaring sound of the air in the conch shel 



WHISKEY, WHISKEY, 'TIS A CURSE. 20 

/ 

The foam and the seaweed no longer enfold me, 
To the deep coral groves I am longing to flee, 

As I sing, in the hands of the fair ones who hold me, 
The song that I learned in the depths of the sea. 

And when the wild winds and the dark waves are stormy. 

More sad is my song in the evening's gloom ; 
O, when will the winds and the waves come -for me, 

And carry me back to my old ocean home ? 



WHISKEY, WHISKEY, : 'TIS A CURSE. 

O, whiskey, whiskey, 'tis a curse ; 
Both to the health and to the purse ; 
For nothing is or can be worse 

Than whiskey. 

What makes yon man run giddy round ? 
What throws him prostrate on the ground ? 
'Tis tippling, tippling — I'll be bound — 
With whiskey. 

And if he follows up the plan 
He soon will be a ruined man ; 
O, quit it, quit it, while you can; 
Quit whiskey. 

What makes that man which once I knew. 
Then sober, honest, just and true, 
What scourges him life's journey through? 
'Tis whiskey. 



30 RURAL RHYMES. 

He now has left his sober ways, 
And drinks, and drinks, for nights and days, 
And at the gaming table plays, 
For whiskey. 

What makes him leave his family, 
To visit shop and grocery, 
And fool his precious time away ? 
For whiskey. 

Oh, what makes poverty prevail, 
The orphan weep, the widow wail ? 
What fills the poor-house and the jail ? 
'Tis whiskey. 

Look at the lawyer, if you choose, 
What makes him still his practice lose ? 
Because he does himself abuse 
With whiskey. 

Yon preacher, too, please now behold, 
Who preaches righteousness so bold! 
Alas! he drinks — as I've been told — 
Of whiskey. 

The love of God forsakes him now ; 
Shorn of his locks he is, I trow, 
As weak as other men who bow 
To whiskey. 

He's like the meddling candle fly, 
Which plays around the danger nigh — 
He burns his wings and drops to die. 
Oh, whiskey ! 



WHISKEY, WHISKEY, 'TIS A CURSE. 3 1 

And yonder is a merchant, too, 
Who once was richer than a Jew; 
But he has gone to drinking, too, 
Of whiskey. 

His riches now are wasting fast, 
And will until his days are past, 
For he will drink unto the last 
Of whiskey. 

Young man, upon you now I call, 
And if you do not wish to fall 
Into a sin the worst of all, 

Shun whiskey. 

And now I'm going to end my song; 
And if your fortitude is strong, 
Do not, I pray, your morals wrong 
With whiskey. 

And when I've wound my subject up, 
Do not so much as take a sup 
From out the vile, pernicious cup 
Of whiskey. 

A thousand thousand youths like you, 
As sober, and as honest, too, 
Have waded to their gaves all through 
Bad whiskey. 



32 RURAL RHYMES. 

INTEMPERANCE. 

Throughout the whole country an evil we find ; 

A blighting and withering curse ; 
It weakens the body, it injures the mind, 

And empties the heaviest purse. 

In the form of a liquid this evil is found, 
And it flows from the worm of the still ; 

We see its effects where e'er we look round, 
And its victims, turn which way we will. 

For years has this streamlet continued to flow. 

From a fountain of sorrow and death ; 
And the longer we drink of this streamlet of woe 

The more sorrows abound in life's path. 

In every age, and in every state, 

Through Christendom's spreading domain, 

This stream leads us on, through a wide, open gate. 
To regions of sorrow and pain. 

'Tis used as a beverage by thousands of men. 

In each and in every state, 
Who drink of it now, and repent of it when, 

Alack and alas ! 'tis too late ! 
Then let me advise the young and the old 

To touch not, nor handle the stuff: 
Yes, touch not at all, for I will not be told 

You'll quit when you swallow enough. 

The longer you drink of the poisonous stream 
The sweeter the draught will appear ; 

Till at length you awake, as if from a dream. 
To find that your ruin is near. 



INTEMPERANCE. $3 

And if you should then endeavor to break 

The fetters with which you are bound, 
You'll find that, like Samson, you only can shake 

Yourself as you lie on the ground. 

Oh, had I the courage and strength, I'd assail 

The drunkard of every age ; 
And could I with language of truth but prevail, 

I would war against drunkenness wage; 
Or if the kind muses would lend me their aid, 

The gauntlet at once should be hurled ; 
Nor would I give over until I had made 

An end of this scourge of the world. 

Just look at the multiplied thousands of men 

Who have fallen the monster before ; 
Ah, look at the tears of the orphan, and then 

At the monster still calling for more. 
You hear the sad accent of that mournful wail, 

Which causes the tear-drop to start ; 
It comes on the breeze and is borne on the gale 

From many a lone widow's heart. 

Let me point to the felon, immersed in the gloom 

Of a prison, shut out from the sun, 
All rayless and dark, not a hope can illume 

The mind of that now guilty one. 
Then go back with him to the days of his youth, 

Ere drunkenness shed its sad blight, 
When he walked in the pathway of justice and truth, 

Nor dreamed of the fast coming night. 

I have marked the course of the drunkard full well ; 
Have witnessed his rapid descent; 



34 RURAL RHYMES. 

And when at the shrine of dread Bacchus he fell, 

Have wept at the mournful event. 
I have looked on the evils of drink with concern ;. 

Have viewed its effects with dismay ; 
And often have wondered that men do not spurn 

This greatest of evils away. 

When Sol in his glory has risen, and chased 

The darkness and vapors away, 
To the temple of Bacchus the drunkard will haste- 

His daily devotion to pay; 
The tavern, the grocery, the dram-shop or still, 

To one or the other he goes, 
And drinks of the beverage of ruin until 

The spirit exuberant flows. 

As glass after glass of the liquid goes down, 

His spirits rise higher and higher ; 
He boasts of his prowess, and swaggers thro' town,. 

And his tongue appears never to tire ; 
But shortly a giddiness over him steals, 

And his balance he scarcely can keep, 
But backward and forward he staggers and reels, 

Or tumbles down, all in a heap. 

Ye temperate dram-drinkers, now look at the wretch y 

Learn wisdom at once and be wise ; 
See him struggle, and hiccup, and vomit and stretch,, 

And look at his watery eyes. 
But low as he lies 'twas not always the case ; 

He once was as temperate as you ; 
But his love of the "creature" is on the increase, 

And you see what it's bringing him to. 



INTEMPERANCE. 35 

You have known him, perhaps, in days that are past, 

When quite a respectable man ; 
But now with the reckless inebriate classed, 

He is sinking as fast as he can. 
Yes, low he has sunk into shame and disgrace, 

And he feels the sharp pang of remorse, 
As he sees in the bottle the shadowy face 

Of Death on the pale colored horse. 

Not long since the time when he was possessed 

Of a character noted for good ; 
And those who then knew him considered him blest,. 

But they saw not the ground where he stood. 
They saw not the gulf that was yawning so wide, 

Nor the stream that was bearing him on ; 
They saw not the ebb, nor the flow of the tide;, 

Nor the whirlpool to which he was drawn. 

They little imagined the danger that lurked 

Within the enlivening bowl ; 
Nor saw with what cunning the tempter had worked 

To ruin a high-minded soul. 
They saw not that habit was doubling her chain, 

So slyly as not to be seen ; 
Nor knew that his custom had latterly been 

With dram-drinking crowds to convene. 

But time passed along, and a change was perceived 

In his habits and business pursuits ; 
His friends were offended, his kindred were grieved, 

And he was involved in disputes. 
His wife and his children soon felt the sad change, 

And begged him with tears to refrain ; 
But though he will promise, it seems passing strange, 

He can not or will not abstain. 



36 RURAL RHYMES. 

His property, too, but a short time ago, 

Was ample enough to secure 
A home and its comforts, with some to bestow 

Upon the unfortunate poor. 
But now it is wasting — indeed it is gone — 

For scarcely a pittance remains; 
His wife and his children are struggling on, 

And he is still hugging his chains. 

That beautiful homestead is not their home now — 

A stranger possesses those lands ; 
Tis gone, and forever, and if you ask how. 

'Twas to pay the dram-seller's demands. 
Misfortunes have crowded upon him apace; 

Gone now reputation and friends ; 
iRespect for himself, contentment and peace, 

And all that on virtue attends. 

He once passed along, independent and bold, 

In garments both decent and clean; 
But since by his appetite he is controlled, 

He's often ashamed to be seen. 
In vain may his wife use endeavors to keep 

His linen in decent repair ; 
He's oft in the mud and mire so deep, 

No wonder she yields to despair. 

The best and the kindest of husbands he's been; 

The kindest of fathers and friends ; 
But low he has fallen, by one baleful sin, 

And lower and lower he tends. 
A still lower deep, as great Milton has said, 

Is waiting to swallow hrm up ; 
Soon will he be numbered amongst the pale dead, 

A victim, alas ! to the cup. 



INTEMPERANCE. 37 

His family often await his return, 

And look for his coming with dread ; 
Experience has taught them too well to discern 

The storm ere it bursts overhead ; 
And when he returns, if you could be there 

And see the abusive insults 
Which he heaps upon them, you would surely forswear 

The bottle, and shun its results. 

His ravings and cursings, enough to induce 

A person to think him insane, 
Are but part of the fruits which drink will produce, 

And others still follow in train. 
His heart and his conduct appear to be changed, 

And changed the whole course of his life ; 
His better affections have all been estranged, 

And evil affections are rife. 

But when he at length to drowsiness gives way, 

And falls on a mattress to sleep, 
Oh, pity the wife and the children, for they 

O'er a husband and father now weep ; 
They weep o'er the ruin that whisky has wrought, 

Look back on the past in despair ; 
They look to the future, but there they see nought 

To brighten the prospect so drear. 

When morning shines round him he rises, tho' late, 

Half wakened to reason again ; 
Accused by his conscience, he curses his fate, 

And his head is now aching with pain : 
A thirst on his vitals is preying, no doubt — 

A strange and unnatural thirst — 
Engendered by drinking, and all brought about 

By not taking heed at the first. 



38 RURAL RHYMES. 

His reason condemns him for what he has done ; 

Alas ! he feels humbled enough ! 
And half way resolves hereafter to shun 

The poisonous, detestable stuff. 
But ah, he has made the same promise before, 

A hundred or thousand times told ; 
And once, I believe, although I'm not sure, 

His name on the pledge was enrolled. 

He pledges his word, but to break it again — 

A slave to the appetites now — 
His purpose so weak he cannot abstain, 

Though bound by the Nazarite's vow. 
But the cause of his failure lies mostly in this : 

He trusts in a strength of his own ; 
Like Samson his locks have been shorn from his face, 

And his strength has departed and gone. 

Though shorn of his locks and deprived of his sight, 

Would he suffer himself to be led, 
And lean for support on omnipotent might, 

He could conquer through heavenly aid. 
'Tis heavenly aid alone that can save 

The wretch from the drunkard's hard fate ; 
'Tis that which can free the inebriate slave, 

And give hope to the now desolate. 

Like one that lies down in the midst of the sea, 

Or one on the top of a mast, 
Destruction yawns round him, no port can he see, 

And the storm cloud is gathering fast. 
On the wide stormy sea of intemperance he 

Is driven still further from shore ; 
And the storm seems to howl in his ear the decree 

That he ne'er shall return any more. 



INTEMPERANCE. 39 

The comparison view, by King Solomon made ; 

How forcible 'tis, and how true ; 
And in this our day it is worse, I'm afraid, 

Than it was in the days of the Jew. 
The many strong drinks invented since then 

Have deepened and widened the stream ; 
And spirits distilled are more poisonous to men 

Than fermented drinks, it would seem. 

Like one on the top of a mast, sound asleep, 

While billows are rolling below; 
Unconscious he nears the abyss, dark and deep, 

Where drunkards are destined to go. 
Though smitten and stricken he feels not the pain 

That in kindness is given to heal ; 
He wakes not, or waking he seeks yet again 

In sleep his sad fate to conceal. 

Then leaving him thus in his perilous sleep, 

As he drifts on the ocean so wide ; 
By his fate let us profit, and evermore keep 

Far away from the treacherous tide. 
Oh, let us not look on the wine when 'tis red, 

When its color appears in the cup ; 
When it moveth itself like a serpent of dread ; 

For a fang will be found in each sup. 

Its beginnings are smooth and deceitful, I know, 

And promise us pleasures ahead ; 
But, oh, let me tell you, the further you go 

The rougher the path you must tread. 
There's a way, and that way to man seemeth right, 

But Solomon says, and with truth, 
That its end is the way of Death and dark night ; 

Then shun it, oh, shun it in youth. 



4° RURAL RHYMES. 

Wine, wine is a mocker, and what is strong drink ? 

'Tis raging and rages indeed; 
And deceived ones are led to destruction's dark brink. 

But he who is wise will take heed. 
If sinners entice thee, consent not, my son, 

For their feet haste to evil and death. 
Walk not in the pathway in which they may run, 

But thy footsteps refrain from their path. 

And now in the end, let me say once for all, 

There's an evil abroad in the land 
And hundreds and thousands do stumble and fall 

Who otherwise proudly might stand. 
Forbid it, oh, Heavenly Father, forbid, 

That the streamlet shall ever increase ; 
But, oh, dry it up, and let us instead 

See a river of plenty and peace. 



POEMS, DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOR- 
OUS. 



THE PROBLEM. 

A youth when verging on nineteen — 
One that by all was counted green — 

An awkward, gawky lad — 
A lady's age once chanced to ask, 
For which she gave him such a task 

As youngster never had. 

"My age," said she, "I will not tell, 
But if ) ou're skilled in numbers well, 

As I suppose you are, 
I'll give you data, whence you may 
Obtain my age unto a day ; 

And that you'll own is fair. 

First let its cube be added to 

Six times my age, and then add you 

Four times its square to that; 
Then let the whole be multiplied 
By once my age, and then you add 

Four times my age to that. 

Then, since you're nineteen years of age, 
Add eight times that, and I'll engage 

The whole amount will be 
Half a million, neither more nor less; 
Now, if you tell my age, I guess 

You'll be the bov for me." 



42 RURAL RHYMES. 

That green one studied night and day 
In Fowler, Smiley, Smith and Ray, 

But no such question found. 
He strung out figures by the yard, 
But still the problem was so hard 

He couldn't square it round. 

But still resolved to persevere, 
He worked for nearly half a year, 

And made the answer plain ; 
And when he'd solved the problem true, 
(A problem which I give to you,) 

She heard from him again. 

Said he : "My dear Miss W., 
You didn't know what I could do ; 

And now you're fairly caught; 
I am the boy for you, although 
From these here figures now I know 

You're older than I thought. 

We both have been deceived for once : 
You thought that you had met a dunce, 

One of the many Greens. 
While I myself was wrong in this : 
I took you for a bashful miss 

Not yet beyond the teens. 

But I'm the boy for you, I guess ; 
So hurry up your wedding dress; 

We'll make an even trade. 
You've got the boot in age, but I 
In height and weight, so let us tie 

The bargain that you made." 



THE FISHERMAN S LAW-SUIT. 43 



THE FISHERMAN'S LAW- SUIT. 

'Mongst all the subjects of doubt and dispute, 
Did you ever hear tell of the fisher's law-suit — 
Where John was the plaintiff, and Peter defended, 
And how it began and how it was ended ? 

To tell the tale, then, as 'twas told to me : 

One Peter Bancure lived hard by the sea ; 

This Peter, 'tis said, was a fisher by trade, 

And by plying that calling, his living he made. 

The catching of fish was all his employ ; 

Nothing else did he ever molest or destroy. 

He was honest and friendly, and kind to the poor ; 

A very good name had this Peter Bancure. 

One day as he walked along the sea side, 

With hook and with line, and with bait well supplied. 

He heard, as he thought, a cry of distress, 

And quickening his steps, he ran to the place : 

And when he had searched the place all around, 

He saw a poor man, who, apparently drowned, 

Deep down in the water lay still as a stone, 

Nor stirred hand or foot, nor uttered a groan. 

That the man to the surface again might arise, 
His hook and his line with a will Peter plies ; 
And soon to the margin the body he drew ; 
When who should it be, but his neighbor John Blue. 
And while he was thinking how best to proceed, 
With this his poor friend, in a time of great need, 
He saw to his grief, and to his surprise, 
That his hook had hooked out one of his eyes. 



44 RURAL RHYMES. 

However persuaded, that still he might live, 
He proceeded still further assistance to give ; 
He bled him and rubbed him and rolled him about, 
Till he saw him recov'ring beyond any doubt. 
To his cottage he took him and put him to bed, 
And in less than a week, if the truth must be said — 
Except in the loss of his eye and the wound — 
Friend John was as well as before he was drowned. 

But when he was able to walk out again 
He felt the loss of his eye very plain, 
And forgetting past favors, as many still do, 
Talked loud of his loss, and of damages, too. 
'Twas Peter's fish-hook that had made him half blind, 
And to sue him for damage he made up his mind; 
Went straight to a lawyer, and sued a writ out, 
Which Peter was summoned to answer about. 

Poor Peter felt vexed, as any one would, 

But defended the matter as well as he could ; 

Said the damage was done, but without his intent — 

In fact and in truth, 'twas a pure accident. 

His conscience felt easy, he said, on that score; 

111 fortune alone was to blame, he felt sure, 

And that John should be willing, when death was so nigh, 

To purchase his life with the loss of an eye. 

He admitted John's loss was great and severe, 

But said he would always assert without fear 

That a man who can show but one eye in his head 

Is better, much better, than one that is dead. 

In answer to this, the defendant's fine speech, 
John said no authority within all his reach, 
No law nor no custom on earth could be found 
To put a man's eye out because he was drowned ; 



THE FISHERMAN S LAW-SUIT. 45 

No emperor, king, senator, or sage — 

No people or nation, in any dark age, 

Had ever permitted, by force or surprise, 

One neighbor to put out the next neighbor's eyes. 

The damage to him was so very severe 

As to equal at least a hundred a year ; 

'Twas that he demanded, and Pete should comply, 

Or else give him back his identical eye. 

The arguments brought the Judge into a strait — 
'Twas hard to decide which had the most weight ; 
The lawyers all, too, appeared at a stand 
Which way to decide on the matter in hand, 
Till a half-witted boy, who was present by chance, 
Asked leave of the court his thoughts to advance, 
And said, " 'Tis as plain as the nose on your face, 
" And I never would want a less difficult case. 
'•The case may be novel, although it is plain; 
" Be guided by me and you'll ne'er doubt again : 

"The plea of the plaintiff rests on this one fact, 
"That Peter proceeded with so little tact, 
" And handled his hook in so awkward a way 
"As to ruin John's looks, for which he claims pay. 

" And now, please your honor, just listen to me : 
" Let the plaintiff once more be sunk in the sea, 
" And when he has lain there as long as before, 
"Then give him permission to come to the shore; 
" And if he succeeds and gets out alone, 
" Safe, sound and undamaged, why, then be it known 
" That Peter must pay all the damages claimed, 
" However so little by others he's blamed; 
" But if, after struggling and flouncing about, 
"John drowns in the waters and never gets out, 



46 RURAL RHYMES. 

" Why then it is justice, as all will admit, 

"That the court shall at once the defendant acquit." 

The Judge thanked the boy for his logical view, 
And was charging the jury in accordance to do, 
When the plaintiff in action cut short the dispute 
By saying, "Please your honor, I withdraw the suit!" 



DORR MORRISON'S RIDE; OR, JOHN GILPIN 
THE II. 

Tom Thompson was a soldier bold, 

As bold as bold can be ; 
And in the famous Kansas wars, 

A captain then was he. 
He marched across Missouri's line, 

To Kansas with his men ; 
But when he found old Sumner there, 

He marched them back again. 

Through fair Paola they returned, 

With armor shining bright ; 
And when a little space beyond, 

They halted for the night. 
And there they fought their battles o'er, 

Their merit to enhance ; 
And Loasted what they would have done, 

If they had had a chance. 

Now, Thompson's men were heroes all, 

The bravest in the land : 
To hear them talk, you would have thought 

No foe could them withstand. 



dorr Morrison's ride; or, john gilpin the ii. 47 

But there was one surpassing brave ; — 

The world scarce ever saw 
A braver than Dorr Morrison, 

The captain's son-in-law. 

He louder talked, and boasted more, 

Than any one beside. 
Could he but meet the Yankees, sure, 

The Yankee woe betide. 

'Twas thus the hours passed away ; 

Each felt heroic flame, 
And sank to sleep, perhaps to dream 

Of military fame. 

Next morn the captain called the roll, 

As soon as it was day, 
And said, "I'll tell you what, my bo)S, — 

We 'd better get away ; 
For Reid has burned that Yankee town, 

That Osso-what's-its-name, 
A few miles down the country here, — 

You saw the smoke and flame. 

" And now the Yankee tribe will come, 

And be avenged on us ; 
Unless we get away from them, 

And so escape the muss." 

Then spoke Dorr Morrison the brave : 

"Just let the Yankees come ! 
We '11 give 'em hail Columbia, sure, 

And send 'em back to hum !" 

But Thompson could n't see it so. 
Said he, " The better plan 



4§ RURAL RHYMES. 

Is not to stay and risk a fight, 
But march while march we can.'' 

The baggage train, consisting of 
A wagon drawn by mules, 

Was hurried off in their advance, 
For that was marching rules. 

And hastily their horses now 
Are caught and saddled all, 

And they await the word to mount, 
And into column fall. 

Their faces all are homeward turned, 

And willngly or not, 
They mount their horses, at the word, 

And set off on a trot. 

But there was Harry Whack McCrack, 

And Hink I. Donowho, 
Who lagged behind, and in the fog 

Were hidden from the view. 

And then these two mischievous boys, 

To have a little fun, 
Resolved to give their friends a scare, 

And see if they could run. 

So Harry primed his arms afresh, 
And Hinkley followed suit : 

Then fired their guns and pistols off, 
As fast as they could shoot. 

They couldn't see from out the fog 
The effect on those before, 

But the clattering of their horses' feet 
Was like the thunder's roar. 



DORR MORRISONS RIDE; OR, JOHN GILPIN THE II. 49 

Upon the morning's balmy air 

The thundering echoes broke ; 
While Hinkley screamed and called aloud, 

"Stop ! stop ! 'tis all a joke." 

They heard him not, they heeded not, 

But hurried on apace ; 
While Hink and Harry hurried too, 

Like men who rode a race. 

'Twas " helter-skelter," man and horse, 

O'er hill and over plain, 
As fast and faster moving still, 

They whipped and spurred amain. 

They soon o'ertook the baggage train, 

The driver whipping too ; 
For he had heard the din behind, 

And knew not what to do. 

"Save, save yourself," Dorr Morris cried, — 

For he was now before ; 
"A thousand Yankees, just behind I 

A thousand, if no more." 

The driver took him at his word : 

He cut the hame string square, 
And mounting on the nearest mule, 

He left the other there. 

Thus on they rode to Dashman's farm, 

Where dwelt a widowed squaw ; 
For they were on the Indian lands, — 

The lands of the Wea. 



50 RURAL RHYMES. 

But some were falling now behind, — 

Their horses were in fault ; 
So Thompson raised his voice aloud, 

And called his men to halt. 

Said he, " We'll stop and fortify, 

And if they come — why, then, 
We'll fight, and do the best we can ; 

We'll fight, my boys, like men. 

" See here ; this smoke-house, good and strong, 

Of that we '11 make a fort; 
And if the Yankees should attack, 

We '11 give a good report." 

Into the meat-house then they crowd ; 

'Twas full from roof to floor 
Of living flesh — not salted down ; 

But in a pickle, sure. 

For when the doors were closed and barred, 

And fastened round about, 
They found themselves within the fort, 

And all their guns without. 

But where are Hink and Harry now ? 

They 're bringing up the rear ; 
Slow following upon the track, 

And soon they will be there. 

At first they rode with all their speed, 

Their horses on the strain, 
To overtake the flying host, — 

But, ah ! 'twas all in vain. 



dorr Morrison's ride; or, john gilpinthe ii. 51 

Yet still they kept pursuing on, 

And followed the retreat ; 
But every moment fainter grew 

The sound of horses' feet. 

" Where will they stop?" said Hink, at last; 

" D'ye think they ever will?" 
" I think, perhaps," said Whack McCrack, 

" They '11 stop at Pleasant Hill ; 

" For they are now like Gilpin's horse : 
They '11 run till they reach town." 

Said Hink, " Perhaps, like Yankee clocks, 
They '11 stop when they 've run down." 

Thus riding on, they came at length 

To where the baggage train 
Had been abandoned on the road ; 

And then they drew the rein. 

Said Harry, " Here is trouble, now ; 

I fear we 've played the fool. 
We've got Van Higgin's wagon here, 

And Duncomb's favorite mule. 

" And though they 're on the road toward home, 

They 're on it like to stay ; 
x^nd though they hold their tongues, they speak, 

And plainly seem to say, 

" That we must cover the retreat, 

And take the baggage through ; 
Or else, perhaps, we '11 have to pay 

For mule and wagon too." 



5 2 RURAL RHYMES. 

Dismounting then, they harnessed up 
Hink's horse behind the mule, 

And travelled leisurely along, 
To let their horses cool. 

And now the fog had cleared away, 

And when they came in view, 
The men within the smoke-house saw 

And recognized the two. 

" 'Tis Hink and Harry, safe and sound — 

The baggage wagon, too ! 
Why, boys, we thought you both were killed ; 

Come, tell us how you do." 

But when the boys began to laugh, 

And said 'twas all a joke, 
Oh, what a mighty storm of wrath 

Forth from the captain broke. 

He made for Harry with his gun, 

And vowed in angry strain, 
That he who laughed at such a joke 

Should never laugh again. 

But soon, this hurly-burly o'er, 

They took a calm survey, 
And counted up the loss and gain 

Of that eventful day. 

Of killed and wounded on the field 
They found that there were none, 

And of the missing it appeared 
That there was only one. 



dorr Morrison's ride; or, john gilpin the ii. 53 

The brave Dorr Morris answered not — 

The reason why was clear : 
When Thompson gave the word to halt, 

Dorr Morris failed to hear. 

But on, and onward still, he rode 

With unabated speed ; 
And still he plied the whip and spurs 

Upon his panting steed. 

He rode as for a mighty stake, 

The issue life or death, 
Until he crossed Missouri's line, 

And then he stopped for breath. 

He paused, and looked behind to see 

Who followed in his rear ; 
Well pleased he was to find that all 

The coast around was clear. 

Not long he tarried there to breathe; 

He bounded forward still, 
For though 'twas thirty miles away, 

His goal was Pleasant Hill. 

At every farmer's house he passed 

He raised his voice and said : 
"The Yankee's come ! the Yankee's come ! 

"And half our men are dead; 

"And all the rest surrounded are, 

"Back at the Dashman farm, 
"And I alone escaped to give 

"And spread the dread alarm. 



54 RURAL RHYMES. 

"Call every brave pro-slavery man, 
"And go to their rescue ; 

" I'm riding now with an express, 
"Or I'd go back with you. 

"Arise, ye brave Missourians ! 

" The war has just begun ; 
"And when the call for soldiers comes, 

"Then count me in for one." 

Through Morristown and Harrisville 

The fl)ing hero rode — 
The trump of war had sounded sure, 

And loud that trump he blowed. 

And every time he told the tale 
More wild and strange it grew ; 

So wild and strange that some, at least, 
Could scarce believe it true. 

But Morris had an evidence — 
A fight there, sure, had been — 

He showed the hat upon his head, 
A bullet hole therein. 

But still they wondered how it came 
That leaden ball had sped 

Right through the middle of his hat, 
And yet had missed his head ! 

Perhaps his hair had raised the hat 

So high from off his pate 
That there was left a passage for 

That messenger of fate. 



DORR MORRISONS RIDE; OR, JOHN GILPIN THE II. 55 

Dorr Morris had no time to waste ; 

He hurried onward still, 
And long before the noon of day 

He got to Pleasant Hill. 

Meanwhile the fearful tidings flew, 

And spread from side to side, 
And men and boys were hurrying 

To check the coming tide. 

They hurried forward to Indian Land 

_ In squads of two or more, 
And such a reinforcing time, 
We never saw before. 

Tom Thompson and his heroes brave, 

Upon their journey home, 
Met reinforcements every mile, 

And still, and still they come! 

But Morrison had rode so far, 

And rode so fast to town, 
His horse at least, if not himself, 

Was run completely down. 

So, like a Yankee clock, he stopped 

And would no longer run, 
And I, like him, will stop, for now 

My yarn I've fully spun. 



ACROSTICS AND OTHER SHORT 
POEMS. 



DOUBLE ACROSTIC. 

Written for a Young Friend. 

In which the name is found by reading the first letters either from top 
or bottom to the centre. 

Just what I am, or what I'll be, 
Appears a mystery to me ; 

My mind so often changes ; 
Even while I plan for future weal, 
Some turn of fickle fortune's wheel 

My plan of life deranges. 
Sometimes I feel myself a blank, 
The semblance of some broken plank, 

Upon an ocean driven 
Like vessel tossed, and floating on 
Till driven finally upon 

Sahara's desert even. 

Sahara's burning sands the while 
To fairy lands will change, and smile 

Like fields of fair Elysian, 
Until, like Selkirk, I can say, 
The monarch of a grand survey, 

So fair to fancy's vision. 
Monarch like, I think my name 
Shall stand upon the scroll of fame, 

Enrolled in letters gleaming — 
May stand perhaps almost as high 
As Washington's. O, Jemmy, fie ! 

Just wake, for you are dreaming. 



ACROSTIC. 57 

ACROSTIC. 

Written for Mary Burton. 

My thoughts are soaring as a dove, 

Away to worlds on high ; 
Rising, they mount and soar above 

Yon azure vaulted sky. 

But though my thoughts, on fancy's wings, 

Up to the highest star ascends, 
Reality as often brings 
Those thoughts to earth and earthly things; 
Or warm affection fondly clings 

Near to my earthly home and friends. 



ACROSTIC. 



To Mary E. J. Burton. 



May I govern my passions and keep them subdued, 
And never be vicious, intemperate or rude ; 
Resolving, whatever on earth may betide, 
Youth or age shall not tempt me from justice aside. 

Encompassed by snares in the journey of life, 
Just grant me, kind Providence, freedom from strife ; 
By the rivers of peace may I journey along, 
United to friends and beguiled by their song ; 
Renouncing the world, with its fashions and pride, 
To the home of the blessed may I cross o'er the tide- 
O'er the Jordan of Death may I peacefully go — 
No fears to disturb, though the banks overflow. 



58 RURAL RHYMES. 

ACROSTIC. 

Written as an Autograph in the Album of Mollie Johnson. 

Misfortune dark may gather round 

Our fraglie bark, now homeward bound ; 

Let not their winds detain us, 
Life's stormy sea will soon be past — 
In heavenly ports / when anchored fast, 

Earth's conflicts will not pain us. 

Jerusalem, thy mansions bright — 
Our home above in realms of light- 
Home of the blessed forever ; 
Not all the storms that darken day 
Should cause our footsteps to delay, 
Or turn our feet from out the way ; 
No, never I never ! never. 



ACROSTIC. 

Wiitten in the Album of Miss J. Franklin. 

Just think, when e'er these lines you see, 
Upon what great uncertainty 

Depends our comfort here. 
In all of life's vicissitudes 
Through crowded streets and solitudes, 
How great are our disquietudes ; 

Forever filled with fear. 
Renounce the world and worldly bliss, 
And seek a higher sphere than this; 

Nor seek beneath the sky ; 



ACROSTIC. 59 

Know that beyond this vale of tears, 
Lit up by joy, a home appears, 
In which the good through endless years 
No longer fear to die. 



A CR OS TIC— & O UBIE 

Many a tide may ebb and flow, 

All my friends may me forsake ; 
Rolling waves may come and go, 

Tempest tossed my vessel break. 
If the captain by me stand, 

Nought I'll fear, nought I'll fear ; 
Resting on his promise sure, 
I, amid the tempest's roar, 
Calmly view the distant shore, 

Ever clear — ever clear. 
Evening's shades around may close, 

Cold and dark the night come on, 
I shall calmly then repose, 

Resting till the day shall dawn. 
Numbered with my buried friends, 

I shall rest, sweetly rest, 
Till the night of death is o'er; 
Rising then aloft I'll soar, 
And find a home on yonder shore, 

'Mongst the blest, 'mongst the blest. 



60 RURAL RHYMES. 

PARODY ON A WELL-KNOWN HYMN. 

Could I but see my pathway clear 

From out this land of sighs, 
I fain would quit this sorrowing sphere, 

And seek a heavenly prize. 

Though sinful men their wars may wage, 

With banners wide unfurled, 
I'll smile at their impotent rage, 

And seek a better world. 

Should Death in all his terrors come, 

It would not me appall ; 
'Twould take me to a better home, 

Where God is all in all. 

There shall my weary, way-worn soul 

Bask in eternal rest, 
And waves of sorrow no more roll 

Across an aching breast. 



THE MOON 

Written for a Prize at a School Examination. 

To write, when I consented to, 
I had no subject in my view 

On which to try my hand ; 
And for a subject, when I sought, 
I found myself in trouble caught ; 
For not an idea or a thought 

Would come at my command. 



THE MOON. 6 I 

Imagination's pleasures wild, 

Then Nature's works, my thoughts beguiled, 

And Education, too ; 
Knowledge and Truth with aspect bold, 
And Eloquence, their claims unrolled : 
But all of these were worn and old ; 

I wanted something new. 

While pondering these things at night, 
And sitting in the pale moonlight, 

I felt my bosom thrill. 
I saw the moon in splendor ride 
Through fleecy clouds in stately pride, 
And thought that nothing else beside 

Would suit me half so well. 

The Moon my subject, then, will be — 
The Moon, which over earth and sea 

Has ever ruled the night — 
The Moon, which regulates the tides, 
And into months the year divides, 
Which, ever changing, still abides, 

Fixed in its orbit bright. 

Since first creation's work was done, 
It has the self-same journey run, 

And shown the self-same face. 
It shines on us as first it shone 
On Adam, when he stood alone, 
Ere he had sinned, or death was known, 

To mar his happiness. 

Its pale, its mild, its pitying face, 

Has looked on all of Adam's race 

For near six thousand years. 



62 RURAL RHYMES. 

Far in the East, beyond the wave, 
It shone on Abel's new made grave, 
And looked from out the blue concave, 
Just as it now appears. 

And when the waters overflowed 
The ancient world, and Noah rode 

Upon a deluge wild, 
The Moon, still in its monthly race, 
Looked down upon that watery waste, 
And saw reflected there the face 

Which so serenely smiled. 

On Sodom and Gomorrah, too, 
It shone, as it is wont to do, 

With mild and placid face ; 
But when its monthly round was run, 
And on the plain again it shone, 
Those crowded cities both were gone, 

And a sea was in their place. 

Three thousand years have passed away, 
But still until the present day 

The Moon yet shines as bright 
Upon that dark and sluggish sea 
As when the land was proud and free, 
And will til! earth has ceased to be 

And time shall take its flight. 

It shines upon the pyramid, 
As thousand years ago it did, 

With pale and silv'ry light ; 
It looked upon those structures then, 
And saw them builded by the men 
Whose names for centuries have been 

Lost and forgotten quite. 



THE MOON. 63 

It shone on Thebes and Memphis, too, 
Before to wealth those cities grew ; 

It saw them rise and fall ; 
And now it shines on arid plains, 
Where nought of wealth or pride remains, 
But desolation ever reigns, 

Amid those ruins all. 

It shone on Babylon the fair, 
Upon the hanging gardens there, 

Beside the willow trees ; 
It shone on Ninevah the great, 
When Jonah preached the awful fate, 
The coming doom, which did await 

On its iniquities. 

But Ruin's hand has passed them o'er ; 
Long since they sank, to rise no more — 

Their sites we scarce can know ; 
But yet the Moon has ne'er forgot 
To shine upon each lonely spot, 
To desolation rudely brought, 

As prophets did foreshow. 

Long did the Grecian temples gleam, 
Touched by the pale, unwarming beam 

Which did their spires illume; 
It shone upon the Roman world ; 
Their conquering banners when unfurled, 
And paled when Nero's torch was hurled, 

The city to consume. 

While rolling ages passed away, 
The Moon shone on America, 
Unknown to all the East ; 



64 RURAL RHYMES. 

It shone upon those goodly lands. 
From eastern shore to western strands, 
Upon the roving Indian bands, 
And on the savage beast. 

And when the hardy Genoese 
Adventured over unknown seas, 

In quest of India's shore, 
The Moon then shone, in silver pale, 
Upon the vessel's wide-spread sail, 
And saw it wafted by the gale 

The wide Atlantic o'er. 

It shone upon that little flock 

Of pilgrims, who on Plymouth rock 

Debarked from off the waves ; 
Three hundred years and more have fled, 
Those pilgrims now are with the dead, 
But still the Moon her light will shed 

Upon their unknown graves. 

Like to the cloud Elijah saw, 
That little flock did larger grow, 

And larger still increased, 
Till now it spreads from shore to shore, 
And numbers millions, o'er and o'er, 
And still the Moon shines as of yore, 

On all, from West to East. 

When Washington did nobly dare 
To cross. the raging Delaware, 

The Moon was shining then ; 
It shone upon the hero's brow, 
It shone on Trenton, then as now, 
And saw the British Lion bow 

To freedom-loving men. 



THE ORPHAN'S LOT. 65 

Once, only once, since time began, 
That orb has hearkened unto man, 

To stay its daily race ; 
When Joshua, the son of Nun, 
Commanded, both the Moon and Sun 
Stood still, until his work was done, 
Nor hasted to their place. 

One consolation here I know, 
When I am called by Death to go, 

And leave a world of care ; 
Though friends may shun the spot where I 
Am doomed in the cold ground to lie, 
The Moon, majestic from on high, 

Will shine in pity there. 



THE ORPHAN'S LOT 

Recited at a School Exhibition, Feb., 1872. 

Permit me, friends and teacher kind, 
To-night to speak my woes, 

The sorrows of an orphan's mind, 
No favored mortal knows. 

I had a father once, who died, 

I well remember how.* 
An orphan, drifting on life's tide — 

I have no father now. 

He fell amongst the thousands who, 
In the great war were slain ; 

And we who loved a father true 
Will see him ne'er again. 



See "The Exodus of '63 or Order Number n. 



66 RURAL RHYMES. 

He sleeps within an humble grave, 
Where roses sometimes bloom : 

Those flowerets cheer me as they wave, 
But leave my heart in gloom. 

He left me to a mother's care, 

A mother kind and true ; 
We were the objects of her prayers, 

Her toils and watchings, too. 

She led me on the thorny road, 

The thorny road of life ; 
She told me of a bright abode 

Beyond this vale of strife. 

And she has reached that bright abode, 
Beyond the shores of time; 

And we upon life's rugged road 
Press on toward that clime. 

Her hand no longer points the way — 
No longer smooths my brow ; 

Sad orphan 'mongst my schoolmates gay, 
I have no mother now. 

I'm fatherless — I'm motherless — 

No parent's guiding hand 
To lead me through life's wilderness 

Where dangers thickly stand. 

I 
But brother John and I, alas ! 

With sister Rosalie, 
Sad orphans through the world must pass, 
For orphans sad are we. 

Ye who by fortune have been blessed, 
Upbraid and blame me not ; 



# 



THE CHILD'S DREAM. 67 

You little know what woes are pressed 
On the poor orphan's lot. 

You have not been compelled, as I, 
To give your dearest treasures up ; 

You ne'er have seen your mother'die, 
Nor drank the orphan's bitter cup. 

But I must not with envy look 

On those more favored far than I ; 
'Twas God who gave, 'twas he who took, 

And to his will I'll bow, or try. 

May you, my schoolmates, never know 
The griefs and sorrows I have known ; 

Ne'er be bereft of friends below, 
And left as orphans sad and lone. 



THE CHILD'S DREAM. 

Oh, why did you wake me up, mama ? 

I would have slept all day ; 
For I had a pleasant dream, mama, 

Of our home so far away. 

I thought that we were there again, 

My brother John and me ; 
And we wandered up and down the lane, 

And played by the cherry tree. 

And there was little George, mama, 
With the hat he used to wear ; 

And I saw his little brother, too, 
And Jake and Lizzie there. 



68 RURAL RHYMES. 

AVe climbed the orchard fence, mama, 
And ranged the orchard through ; 

And picked the large, red apples up, 
Just like we used to do. 

And then we went to grandma's house — 
The big, white house, you know ; 

And my grandma took me in her arms, 
And would not let me go. 

And then I thought my grandma cried, 
And called me orphan child ; 

But then I kissed my grandma till 
She wiped her eyes and smiled. 

And then we went back home, mama, 
To that small house of ours ; 

And went into the garden there, 
Amongst the pretty flowers. 

And who do you think I saw, mama ? 

It was my own dear pa; 
And I felt so happy then, although 

'Twas but a dream I saw. 

For I know that he is dead, mama — 
For him you weep and grieve; 

For he was killed, you know, mama, 
The day we had to leave.* 

But I thought that he was there, mama, 
And he took me on his knee, 

And kissed us as he used to do, 
My little sis and me. 



See poem "Order No. n " 



THE EXILES LAMENT. 



6 9 



And I thought he sang to us, mama, 
The song he used to sing ; 

And then 1 went with you and him 
Down to the willow spring. 

But you have waked me up, mama, 

And we are far away ; 
Oh, shall we not go back again 

To that dear home some day ? 



THE EXILES LAMENT. 

Written in the latter part of i86j, and published in The Lexington Union. 

Alone I've returned to the home whence expelled 

By "Order Eleven" from Kansas, 
And here in this home, by my feelings impelled, 

I sigh as I'm penning these stanzas. 

In the home which I builded I sit alone quite, 
Or walk through its rooms in sad silence, 

And I think of the time when my skies were all bright, 
Ere the land had been covered with violence. 

I look on my hearthstone, so cheerless and cold, 

And my eyes as I look become tearful, 
As I think of the past, and the happy household 

Who once met around it so cheerful. 

In vain I may look for that household to-day, 
In vain search the orchard or wildwood ; 

My motherless children are now far away 
From the scenes of their earliest childhood. 



70 RURAL RHYMES. 

I look on the landscape so changed and defaced, 

And the farms all to ruin fast hasting ; 
The fruits of my labors, abandoned in haste, 

I find are now wasted or wasting. 

I look through my windows on farms lying waste, 
The homes of my once happy neighbors, 

Whose houses and orchards are torn and defaced, 
And spoiled are the fruits of their labors. 

But some of those neighbors I'll see here no more, 

I laid them in beds dark and gory,* 
But when I have quitted this blood-crimsoned shore, 

I hope I shall meet them in glory. 

Hard, hard is the fate of an exile from home, 

And hard is our lot among strangers ; 
Wherever we wander, wherever we roam, 

We're looked on as Quantrell's bush-rangers. 

What though we have suffered at bushwhackers' hands, 

Or bled in the cause of the Union, 
Because from the haunt of bushwhacking bands 

We're counted as if in communion. 

But I must away now and leave here with pain, 

This wreck of my earthly Elysian, 
And when I have left it perhaps ne'er again 

Will this home greet my organs of vision. 



See poem " Order No. n." 



you've sung of Greenland's mountains. 71 

YOU'VE SUNG OF GREENLAND'S MOUN- 
TAINS. 

Written in June, 1S61. 

You've sung of Greenland's Mountains, 

You've sung it many a time; 
Of Afric's sunny fountains, 

And India's sultry clime ; 
And of the night of error 

That reigns o'er heathen lands, 
And c died on many a hearer 

To lend them helping hands. 

You've sung the lavish kindness 

Of Heaven bestowed in vain, 
Where superstitious blindness 

Supreme appeared to reign ; 
And thought that men enlightened, 

In favored lands like this, 
Should send to men benighted 

The lamp of gospel peace. 

Alas ! alas ! what better 

Is our condition now ? 
We're bound as with a fetter, 

And to an idol bow. 
That lamp of Christian kindness 

Which we would send afar, 
Has, by our foolish blindness, 

Been quenched in civil war. 

Now we, instead of bowing 

To wood and stone as they, 
To bloody Mars are vowing, 

And vows to him we pay. 



72 RURAL RHYMES. 

Oh ! that some Christian herald 
Would come to us from far, 

And save a land imperilled 
By this intestine war. 

No Juggernaut more bloody, 

No worship more absurd, 
Than that whose votaries study 

To conquer by the sword — 
A brother's hand imbruing 

Deep in a brother's blood ; 
Not worse are heathens doing 

Beyond the ocean's flood. 

Waft not, ye winds, the story, 

Nor bear the news abroad 
To nations aged and hoary, 

That we've forsaken God — 
That this our favored nation, 

A land of Christians called, 
Can rush on desolation 

And meet it unappalled. 

Oh ! that the Lord in kindness 

Would visit us again, 
Would heal a nation's blindness, 

And o'er the nations reign ; 
That war and tumult ceasing, 

The North and South might meet 
With peace and love increasing, 

And bow at Icsus' feet. 



POEMS, DESCRIPTIVE AND SCRIP 
TURAL. 



ABRAHAM'S LAMENT. 

And Abraham came to mourn fjr Sarah and to weep for her. — Genesis. 

My fair princess is no more ! 

Tranquilly she sleeps in death, 
And her loss I now deplore, 

While amongst the sons of Heth. 
Far from all my kindred friends, 
I sojourn. 
In and through a stranger's land 
We have wandered hand in hand, 
But by her lifeless form I stand, 

Now to mourn. 

Wanderer from the land of Ur, 
Far beyond Euphrates' flood, 
I am but a pilgrim here, 

With no permanent abode — 

The graves of all my kindred race 
Far away. 
Where shall Sarah's dust repose; 
Where shall mine when at the close 
I seek relief from all life's woes, 

In the clay? 

God forbid that I should lay 
Sarah in a stranger's tomb; 



74 RURAL RHYMES. 

At my death that stranger may 
Refuse to give my body room ; 
But to buy a resting place 

I propose. 
Oh ! for a cave or sepulcher, 
Where I can lay my princess dear, 
And know that I shall rest with her 

At life's close. 

It was at Jehovah's call 

That we left our native land ; 
He who sees and governs all, 
He it was who gave command. 
Promising to give to us, 

And our seed. 
The land which he would bring us to, 
And, as God is ever true, 
1 have faith that he will do 

As he said. 

Though the days may tarry long , 

Though my sons may be oppressed ; 
Though the chain of bondage strong 
On their aching limbs be pressed — 
Yet the time will surely come, 
(For I learn 
Three generations must decay, 
Four hundred years must pass away.) 
When God will visit them, and they 
Will return : 

Return unto this goodly land, 

The land o'er which I roam. 
And all the reuion I have scanned 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 75 

Shall be their future home. 

Numerous as the stars of heaven 

They shall be ; 
Throughout the land, from east to west, 
The sons of Abraham shall rest, 
And all the nations shall be blessed 

Then in me. 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 

PART I. 

'Tvvas long ago, in Egypt's land, 
Of traveler's there came a band — 

Ten brothers all they were ; 
Before the ruler of the land 
Those travelers approach and stand, 

And make obeisance there. 

The ruler knew those brothers then, 
For he was brother to the ten, 

Although they knew him not ; 
For they had sold him long ago, 
When he was but a youth, and lo ! 

He was to Egypt brought. 

They thought that he was yet a slave. 
Or else that he was in the grave, 

Or drowned within the sea. 
He made himself to them so strange, 
Besides so great had been the change, 

They little thought 'twas he. 



76 RURAL RHYMES. 

"From what far country have ye sped, 
"And wherefore have you come?" he said, 

"I fain would understand: 
"Ye look as if ye might be spies ; 
"Perhaps you come to realize 

"How naked is the land?"' 

"We came from Canaan's land," they said, 
"And we have come to purchase bread, 

"Our families to feed; 
"True men we all thy servants are, 
"The sons of one man living there ; 

"We are no spies, indeed." 

"Nay, nay," the ruler then replied, 
"Your answers prove that you have lied, 

"For you are surely spies. 
"I know ye are a Syrian band, 
"And you have come to spy the land, 

"And come in this disguise." 

"Indeed, my lord, we spake the truth; 
"We've dwelt in Canaan from our youth, 

"And hard has been our lot. 
' 'Twelve sons our aged father had, 
"The youngest now a little lad, 

"And one of them is not." 

' If that be so, you'll make it clear 
"By bringing that young brother here, 

"Your company to grace; 
"For, by the life of Pharaoh, king, 
"You shall not buy of me a thing 

"Until I see his face. 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 77 

"In prison you shall here remain, 
"Until you send back home again 

"And bring your brother hence ; 
"For, by the life of Pharaoh, ye 
"Are spies, and buying bread of me 

"Is nothing but pretense." 

He placed them in the prison then, 
And there he kept those brothers ten 

Three days and nights in pain ; 
And then he said, "Do this and live— 
"Your lives to you I freely give 

"Upon conditions plain : 

"Let one in prison here remain, 
"The nine may then return again 

"With food for your supplies ; 
"But when my face again you seek, 
"Bring down the lad of whom you speak, 

"Or surely ye are spies. 

"And if the lad you bring with you, 
"I then will know that ye are true, 

"And that you spake the truth ; 
"But Simeon shall wear the chain 
"Of bondage till ) ou come again, 

"And bring with you the youth." 

PART II. 

In the land of the Canaanite Jacob now dwelt, 
And worshipped on altars his fathers had built ; 
For thirty long years in that land he'd sojourned, 
Since he from the land of the East had returned. 
A man of affliction, and sorrowing now, 



78 RURAL RHYMES. 

Care-worn were his features and saddened his brow. 
Twelve sons and a daughter, in time, he had had, 
And all were now gone but the youngest, a lad. 
A favorite son he had long mourned as dead, 
And ten were now gone into Egypt for bread. 
In his tent, on the plain of fair Mamre, sat he, 
With his face to the south, that perchance he might see 
The return of his sons, and his gaze was steadfast, 
For the time of their looked-for return was now past. 
Too long have they tarried — perhaps they are slain — 
But a caravan now is in sight on the plain. 
Toward the tent of old Jacob they come, nor delay; 
But he sees only nine — one, sure, is away. 
They come to their father — a sad interview — 
They tell of their journey, it's incidents too, 
For Reuben, the eldest, recounted it thus : 
" The Lord of the country spake roughly to us; 
'■'■ He said we were spies, that to Egypt we came 
" To spy out the land, and report of the same ; 
" But when we had told him that we were men true, 
" The sons of one father — an honored one, too — 
" That our brother, a lad, was at home with you still, 
" He fain would have kept us in prison, until 
" A messenger came and returned with the youth, 
" To convince the stern ruler that we spake the truth. 
" At length he consented that we might return, 
' ' With food and supplies, and your welfare to learn ; 
" That Simeon there as a hostage remain, 
" Till we shall go down into Egypt again, 
''■ And take along with us our brother, the youth, 
" And prove to him surely that we spake the truth. 
" But as we came home — the strangest thing yet — 
" As we opened a sack, some provisions to get, 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 79 

" In the mouth of the sack, there lo and behold! 
" Was the money we paid for it, silver and gold ; 
•' We know not its meaning, but fear that the man 
" Intends to deal hardly with us if he can.', 

And now as they emptied the stores which they brought, 
They found all the money with which it was bought : 
The silver and gold in full weight had come back, 
And there it was then, in the mouth of each sack. 
Sore afraid now was Jacob — the patriarch good — 
Sore afraid were his sons, as around him they stood ; 
He said : " There is little of comfort now left, 
" For I of my children am sadly bereft ; 
" My favorite, Joseph, to wild beasts a prey, 
' ' And Simeon now is in Egypt away, 
" And ye would take Benjamin far from me now — 
" 'Tis against my consent, and I cannot allow." 

Said Reuben, the eldest, " Trust me with thy son — : * 
" Keep Hannoch and Phallu, my two for the one ; 
"If Benjamin come not in peace back again, 
" Let Hannock and Phallu, my two sons, be slain." 
" Alas!" said the father, " Twould bring no relief, 
" The death of my grandsons would augment my grief; 
" Ye know that his brother was lost long ago, 
" And I will not consent that the lad shall now go ; 
" If mischief befal him, this son of my age, 
" There's nothing on earth that my grief could assuage, 
" But down to the grave my grey hairs would go, 
" Brought down by afflictions, by sorrow and woe." 

PART III. 

The famine in the land was sore, 

And long had it prevailed; 
Though Israel husbanded his store, 

That store at length had failed. 



RURAL RHYMES. 

He spake unto his waiting sons, 

With voice and mien subdued : 
" To save your wives and little ones, 

" Go buy a little food." 
Then Judah spake and answered thus : 

' ' My father, be it so — 
" Send Benjamin along with us, 

" And willingly we'll go. 
" Let not the lad remain through fear 

"That mischief him befal, 
" For, if he goes not with us there, 

" We need not go at all ; 
" For he, the ruler of the store, 

" Did swear in Pharaoh's name, 
" That we should see his face no more, 

" Unless our brother came." 
" Ah ! what is this that ye have done ?" 

The troubled father said ; 
" Why told you that another son 

" Your aged father had ?" 
" Because," his sons did answer then, 

" The man did strait inquire : 
" ' Have ye another brother, men, 

" ' Or have you yet a sire ?' " 
" He questioned us of all our state, 

" And of our kindred, too ; 
" But chief his questions did relate 

" To Benjamin and you. 
" We answered him, as we have said, 

' ; According to the truth, 
" ' One of our brothers now is dead, 

" ' And one at home a youth.' 
" Could we suppose that he would say : 

" 'Go, bring that brother down?' 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 

' ' We can not, dare not, disobey, 

" And meet that ruler's frown." 
Then Judah further spake : " My sire, 

" Entrust the lad with me, 
" And at my hand thy son require 

" When I return to thee ; 
" If I return him not in peace, » 

" Let me then bear the blame, 
" And let a father's curse ne'er cease 

" To rest on Judah's name ; 
' ' For, if we had not tarried thus, 

" We might have twice returned, 
" And brought up Simeon with us, 

" For whom our hearts have yearned." 
Then Jacob spake again and said : 

" My grief is sore indeed ; 
" Go, get you down and buy us food, 

" Since fate has so decreed. 
" Hard fate has said it must be so, 

"Take Benjamin with you; 
" Arise, make haste, to Egypt go, 

" And prove that ye are true. 
" Go, take a present in your hand — 

" 'Tis little we can send 
" Unto the ruler of the land — 

" And may our God befriend ; 
" Go, take the money back with you — 

" The money which you brought — 
" An oversight, perhaps, in you, 

" Or him from whom you bought; 
" Take other money, too, along, 

" Take double money there — 
" Let nought be found within you wrong, 

" But prove yourselves sincere, 



82 RURAL RHYMES. 

" And may the God of Abraham — 

" He whom I daily serve — 
" Go with you to the Land of Ham, 

" And all your lives preserve ; 
" May give you favor in the sight 

" Of that great ruler stern, 
" And guide your erring footsteps right, 

" And hasten your return. 
' ' O may that doubting ruler be 

" Convinced that ye are true, 
" And send the lad again to me — 

" Your other brother too. 
" Ah ! little hope to me is left, 

" And I am sadly grieved ; 
"If of my sons I am bereft, 

" How sad am I bereaved. 
' ' Then go, my sons, to Egypt go — 

" My prayers shall heavenward rise, 
" If Benjamin should fall, ye know, 

" With grief his father dies." 

PART IV. 

'Twas morning in Egypt; the sun mounting high, 

Illumined the small and the great ; 
A caravan small with their asses drew nigh, 

And stood by the governor's gate. 
The ten sons of Jacob, from Canaan they came, 

Away from a famishing land — 
The governor saw them, he knew it was them, 

And their faces he eagerly scanned. 
He saw there a youth — a small, ruddy youth — 

Complexion and features agreed 
With those of his own, and he knew of a truth, 

That this was his brother indeed ; 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 83 

The son of his mother, he knew him, although 

He never had seen him before — 
For he had been sold from his home long ago, 

'Ere his mother that brother had bore. 
He turned from the men, and he spake to his steward : 

" Make ready a feast, very soon, 
" A feast for the strangers, for be you assured 

" That they shall dine with me at noon." 
And now are the brethren astonished, for lo ! 

To the governor's house they are brought ; 
They said: " 'Tis because of the money, we know, 

" And occasions against us are sought, 
" This ruler will keep us for bondmen, we fear — 

" The asses also will be his — 
" We felt and we feared that evil was near, 

" And oh ! what an evil it is." 
They came to the steward, and communed with him thus : 

" Oh, sir, we came down here indeed, 
" Compelled by the famine which preyed upon us, 

" To purchase the bread which we need; 
* l And as we returned, on the road at an inn, 

" We opened our sacks, and behold, 
" The money of each we there found within, 

" The full weight of silver and gold; 
11 Indeed, we know not how the money came there — 

" We have brought it again in our hand, 
" We also have brought other money with care, 

" To buy for our famishing land. 
The steward made reply : " Fear nothing, for God, 

" The God of your fathers, I ween, 
" Has given you treasures ; your money I had, 

" And nothing amiss have [ seen; 
" Dismiss your forebodings and be you at peace, 

" Since ye have the ruler obeyed — 



S4 RURAL RHYMES. 

" He commands it. and I now your brother release, 

" So be ye no longer afraid." 
Then into the palace he brought them, and said: 

" Here tarry, nor go hence away. 
" For I am commanded a table to spread — 

" Ye dine with the ruler to-day." 
The governor came when the morning was spent. 

And there the eleven he found ; 
They brought him the present their father had sent. 

And bowed themselves down to the ground. 
He asked of their welfare, and how they had sped — 

What them on their journey befel : 
He asked of their father, the old man. and said : 

•• Is your father alive ? Is he well ?" 
They answered: "Thy servant, our lather, is well, 

•• And may he in health long remain — 
" Long time may he live in the land where we dwell." 

And they bowed to the ruler again. 
But why does the governor's countenance change. 

As his eyes upon Benjamin rest ? 
To the son of his mother he made himself strange, 

And his feelings with pain he repressed. 
" Is this the young brother ye spake of?" he said : 

" His features all prove it is he : 
" They tell me, my son, that your mother is dead — 

•• May God now be gracious to thee." 
Why takers his voice, and why does he haste 

To go to his chamber alone ; 
Impelled by his feelings, he would have embraced 

That brother, till now never known. 
He wept in his chamber, and then washed his face 

And returned to his brethren again ; 
Then ordered the bread to be set in its place, 

While his tears he could hardly restrain. 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 85 

And now the men marvel. Three tables are set : 

One alone by the ruler is graced, 
One by the Egyptians — another one yet, 

At which the eleven are placed : 
But stranger than all, they saw themselves ranged 

In the order of birthright in line ; 
From oldest to youngest, the ruler arranged 

And placed them, as if by design. 
The men marveled much that a stranger could know 

Their ages, or order of birth — 
Diviner of secrets, magician also, 

Or prophet of God upon earth. 
And now unto each of these brothers he sent 

Choice messes — the fruits of the Nile- — 
But Benjamin's mess was large in extent, 

And they drank and were merry the while. 

PART V. 

The ruler spake unto his steward : 
" These men are true I feel assured, 

" Let them no longer tarry ; 
" Go fill their every sack with grain, 
" And as before so do again ; 
. " Give them as much as all the train 
" To Canaan's land can carry ; 

" And in the mouth of every sack 

" Put each man's purchase money back — 

" You saw the lad, most surely — 
" Then take my cup, the silver cup, 
" The one from which I rarely sup, 
" And then be sure you bind it up 

" Within his sack securely." 



86 



RURAL RHYMES. 

As thus commanded, so he did — 
The sacks were filled, the cup was hid, 

And Jacob's sons departed ; 
At early morn they went away, 
Their mission thus accomplished, they 
Considered this a happy day, 

And each was lightsome hearted. 

But soon their joys are at an end, 
And now may God their lives defend, 

A troop is following after; 
They come, they overtake them now, 
The steward is there — to him they bow- 
While fear is written on each brow, 

And grief succeeds to laughter. 

" Why have you made such base amends? 
" My lord has treated you as friends — 

" He gave you quite a revel — 
" But not content with him to sup, 
" You steal away his silver cup, 
" False treasures you are laying up, 

" Requiting good with evil.-" 

They answered him, " Our God forbid 
" That we should steal; we never did 

" According to thy saying; 
" The cup is not with us, be sure, 
" And naught we've taken from thy store; 
" Why then, my lord, we ask wherefore 

" Against us thus inveighing?" 

" The money found within the sack, 
" You know we brought that money back, 
" At this our second coming ; 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 87 

" And thou did'st tell thy servant this, 
" That we had nothing done amiss; 
" Then from thy mind the thought dismiss, 
" A thought so unbecoming." 

"■ Search every sack and all our stuff, 
" And if the cup you find— enough — 

" We're bondmen to your master, 
" And he with whom the cup is found 
" Shall die the death, and let resound 
" Through Egypt to its utmost bound, 

" The tale of our disaster." 

The steward to them did make reply ; 
" Then be it so; yet none shall die 

" And be forever nameless; 
" But he with whom the cup I see, 
" A servant to my lord shall be, 
" And serve him ever — but for ye, 

" All others shall be blameless." 

Then speedily their sacks were laid 
Upon the ground, and there displayed 

Until the search was ended ; 
Each thought himself from danger free, 
Nor thought the stolen cup could be 
Within his sack, but subtlety 

Had done the work intended. 

And then to search the steward began : 
Searched Reuben's sack, while every man 

In silence stood around it ; 
'Twas Simeon's next, and then Levi, 
Then Judah, Dan, and Nephtali ; 
The brothers' hopes were rising high, 

For yet he had not found it. 



88 RURAL RHYMES. 

But still the search more eager grew ; 
The sack of Gad and Asher too 

He searched, nor yet retreated ; 
Next Issachar and Zebulon, 
Then Benjamin, the youngest one, 
And then the eager search was done — 

The cup was there secreted. 

And now amazement seizes all ; 

They rend their clothes, both great and small, 

And lade in haste their asses, 
Then to the city they return, 
With shame, and grief, and deep concern, 
The fate of Benjamin to learn, 

Whose grief all grief surpasses. 

To Joseph's house in haste they came — 
For Joseph was the ruler's name — 

And fell upon their faces ; 
He said: " What deed is this you've done; 
" Did not you know that such a one 
" As I see all beneath the sun, 

Even in the darkest places ?" 

" You know that I can well divine — 
" Did not I place you all in line, 

" According to your ages? 
' I saw your theft — a crime quite small 
" Compared with one. I know it all ; 
1 I saw your other brother fall 

" When you received your wages." 

Then Judah said : " What can we say, 
" Our sins have found us out to-day, 
" For God could only show thee ; 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 

' ' And now thy servant, lord, is he 
" With whom the cup was found, and we 
" Will serve with him and honor thee, 
" As all must do who know thee." 

The ruler said: " My God forbid 
" To punish you for what he did — 

" The youth shall suffer only; 
" My servant he shall here remain, 
" But you shall get back home again, 
" Your aged father to sustain, 

" And cheer his life now lonely." 

PART VI. 

Then Judah, approaching the ruler, thus spake : 

" Let thy servant now speak but a word 
" In behalf of a father, whose heart will sure break 

" When the news of to-day he has heard. 
" We are murmuring not at thy sentence; indeed, 

" It is less than our actions deserve; 
" But, Oh for the life of my father I plead — 

" A life I would die to preserve. 

" We remember the words that we spake unto thee, 
" Thy questions, and what we replied: 

" You said to your servants, 'A father have ye, 
" ' Or have you a brother beside ?' 

" We told you a father in Canaan we had, 
" That a brother we also had there, * 

" The son of his age, a youth, quite a lad, 
" The object of all his fond care ; 

" And you did then swear by the life of your king 
" That your servants should see you no more, 



90 RURAL RHYMES. 

' Unless we from Canaan our brother should bring 
" And set him our lord's face before. 

' But when to our father thy servants returned, 

" And reported thy words to him there — 
' When the words of my lord our father had learned, 

" His heart sank in grief and despair. 
' 'Twas then that our father long time did refuse, 

" While his tears in a torrent did flow ; 
' For he said, ' Peradventure my son I shall lose, 

" 'As his brother was lost long ago. 

' 'Ye know that the lad had a brother before — 

" ' My joy, and that joy has fled — 
' ' He went from my presence, I saw him no more, 

" 'And long have I mourned him as dead. 
' ' And Benjamin, now, is the only son left 

" ' Of Rachael, my favorite wife, 
' 'And if of that son I shall now be bereft, 

" 'In grief I would end my sad life.' 

' 'Twas thus that our words and our arguments failed, 

" Our father would listen to none ; 
' But famine, at length, sore famine prevailed, 

" And he parted in grief with his son. 
' Then how can I go to my father again 

" If Benjamin be not with me? 
' And how can I witness his anguish and pain, 

" Or his death, 'for his death.it would be ? 
' His life is bound up in the life of the lad, 

" If deprived of his son he will die ; 
' Then how shall I meet him with tidings so sad ? — 

" O, never, no never can I ! 
' Perhaps you, my lord, have a father — if so 

" You can feel for my anguish and pain ; 



JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 9 I 

" For the sake of a father, then, let the lad go 

" With his brethren to Canaan again. 
" O, let him return to his father in peace, 

" To comfort him now in his age ; 
" I pray thee in pity the lad to release, 

" And to serve in his stead I'll engage ; 
" For I became surety, my father unto ; 

" The lad has been placed in my care; 
" For the life of the lad, and my father's, I sue, 

" And I trust you will grant me my prayer. 
" I then as a bondman to thee will remain, 

" My days whether many or few, 
" For I cannot return to my father again 

" If Benjamin go not up too." 

'Twas thus Judah pleaded, for him it behooved 

The ruler's compassion to claim — 
But why does the ruler appear so much moved, 

And why so convulsed is his frame ? 
At length he exclaimed, "Let all men depart, 

" I would be with these brethren alone!" 
His nerves were unstrung, and it seemed that his heart 

Was bursting with feelings unknown. 

And now all alone with his brethren he wept, 

No longer could he now refrain ; 
That secret which long in his heart he had kept 

That heart would no longer retain. 
He wept long and loud, and his weeping was heard 

In the household of Pharaoh afar; 
Surprised were his brethren, emotion appeared, 

His language, his speech to debar. 

" I am Joseph, your brother!" at length he exclaimed; 
" O, say, does my father yet live ?" 



Q2 RURAL RHYMES. 

But they were so troubled, amazed, and ashamed, 

No answer to him could they give. 
" Come near unto me, my dear brethren," he said, 

"I fain would embrace one and all; 
" You sold me to Egypt and thought I was dead, 

" But God has prevented my fall. 

" Then be ye not angry or troubled that ye 

" Did sell me in bondage, for know 
" That God sent me here, a kind savior to be 

" To you and your children also. 
" Two years has the famine been sore in the land, 

" With five years of famine to come ; 
"Though ye were the instruments, God gave command, 

"And sent me away from my home." 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 

I lately had a vision strange ; 

I stood upon a mountain range ; 

Another range hard by was seen, 

And there a valley lay between. 

I saw upon each mountain height 

A host of men in armor bright, 

Who looked like men of foreign clime, 

Or warriors of the olden time. 

Their armor was not such as we 

In this our land and time can see. 

For cannon large, and smaller gun, 

I looked, but could discover none. 

But they were armed with bows and slings, 

And many other simple things ; 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 93 

For there upon that warlike field 

Were spear and helmet, sword and shield ; 

And there, upon each mount arrayed, 

A mighty host its arms displayed ; 

And it was plain to see that they 

Were ranged in battle's dread array. 

As there I stood with paling face 

And beating heart, there came apace 

A ruddy youth with features fair, 

A flashing eye and flowing hair ; 

He came and quickly hurried by, 

But as he passed I caught his eye ; 

He cast on me a look askance, 

And there was something in that glance, 

A something in that flashing eye, 

Attracted me, I knew not why. 

I felt as if I fain would know 

From whence he came, and where he'd go, 

And by that feeling strange impelled, 

By caution nor by fear withheld, 

I followed him as on he sped, 

Without reflecting where he led; 

For, with a speed which few could boast, 

Straight he to the smaller host, 

And as we passed along the line, 

By many a warrior's strange ensign, 

I looked in vain for stripes and stars ; 

I saw no flag with crossing bars, 

No eagle and no lion there, 

No unicorn or northern bear, 

No shamrock and no thistle green, 

No crown or crescent could be seen ; 

But everything was strange to me, 



94 RURAL RHYMES. 

And nought familiar could I see. 

At length he stopped, a flag before, 

And this was the device it bore : 

A golden rod with budding stem, 

On which was written "Bethlehem." 

He spake and said to one, " How goes 

" The battle 'gainst our country's foes?" 

But as he spake he turned to see 

The now approaching enemy. 

I saw upon his face surprise, 

A glance of ire shot from his eyes ; 

I turned myself to see, and lo! 

Down in the valley there below, 

Advancing, came a giant's form, 

With countenance like an angry storm ; 

And he was clad from head to feet 

In armor of defense complete. 

So large was he, full ten feet high, 

And clothed in martial panoply, 

An object sure was he of dread ; 

A brazen helmet on his head, 

A plate of brass upon his breast, 

And one between his shoulders pressed, 

In coat of mail, which must have weighed 

Three hundred pounds, was he arrayed. 

His legs in bands of brass were bound, 

And stood as pillars on the ground; 

A spear with iron head he bore — 

It weighed full thirty pounds, or more — 

The staff of which to me did seem 

As large as any weaver's beam ; 

And this he brandished in the air, 

And seemed to bid defiance there ; 

While one a ponderous shield upbore, 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 95 

And marched this mighty man before ; 

And all the opposing host I saw 

Of this great champion stood in awe. 

Methought he raised his voice aloud, 
Like thunder from a distant cloud ; 
With tone and words inspiring dread 
He spake, and this is what he said : 
''Ye men of Israel, to-day, 
"Why set yourselves in such array, 

" Or why your arms combine ? 
' ' How dare you madly to oppose 
" A host of warriors such as those 

" You see within our line ? 

" Our army far outnumbers yours, 

" And we have arms and warlike stores 

" Of which you little know ; 
"Then why engage in battle strife, 
"Or why endanger human life, 

" 'Gainst such a powerful foe? 
" 'Tis plain that Israel must bow 
" To great Philistia's sceptre now, 

" Our servants to abide, 
" Or else Philistia proud must yield, 
" And we have met upon the field 

"The question to decide. 

" But why should you contend with us, 
" Or why engage in battle thus, 

" Your freedom to regain ? — 
" For when the bloody fray is done, 
"And when the victory we have won, 

"Your thousands will be slain. 



Q6 RURAL RHYMES. 

"Ye servants rrow of Saul give ear, 
" And all ye men of Israel hear, 

" If you would end the strife, 
" It may be settled now, and done 
"Before the setting of the sun, 

' ' With little loss of life. 

' ' Choose you a man from out your host- 
"The strongest that the land can boast — 

" I care not who he be, 
" And let him, armed with coat of mail, 
" Come down and meet me in the vale, 

"And fight the fight with me. 

"And should I then the victor be, 
" And he should yield his life to me, 

"Then ye shall tribute pay 
" And be our servants as of yore, 
" In Samson's days and years before, 

" As I have heard men say. 

" But if this good right arm should fail, 
" And he, your champion, prevail — 

" A quite unlikely thing — 
"Then we will be your servants all, 
" And pay our tribute unto Saul, 

" Or him who may be king. 

"Yemen of Israel, once again, 
" Before your warriors all are slain, 

" I challenge for the fight ; 
"Choose you a champion — one for all — 
"Though it should be the mighty Saul, 

" It will not me affright. 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 97 

" Day after day for forty days, 
' ' My challenges, in various ways, 

"Ye have not dared to meet, 
"And now, this morn, again do I 
"The hosts of Israel defy, 

"Those challenges repeat. 

" Set not your armies in array, 
" But choose a champion to-day, 

" Whose valor has been tried; 
" For by my God, great Dagon, I 
" The hosts of Israel defy, 

" Whatever may betide." 

Now when this boasting speech was heard, 
I saw the smaller host appeared 
Oppressed with fear and seized with dread 
And many of their warriors fled. 

Their broken ranks were scattered all, 
And fear did many a heart appall, 
But in the dire confusion then, 
Amid the terror-stricken men, 
That stripling's voice, distinct and loud, 
Was heard amid the surging crowd. 
I turned to look, but I could trace 
No sign of fear upon his face ; 
His eye was towards the giant turned, 
His ruddy cheek with ardor burned, 
And on his beaming countenance 
There sat a look of confidence, 
Which seemed to banish fear and dread 
From many who had turned and fled. 
A single look upon them cast, 
A single word as on they passed, 



qS RURAL RHYMES. 

I saw (and strange it was to see), 
Attracted them as it had me ; 
They halted there and then 
Around the tlag of Bethlehem. 

••Stay, men of Israel, stay!" he cried, 

•• For who is this that has defied 

•• The army of the living God, 

•• Which often times, by faith, has trod 

'•The land of proud Philistia o'er, 

" And conquered it in days of yore ; 

••Saw who's this boasting Philistine. 

•• This mighty man of Anak's line. 

•■ And why should he, I ask you why, 

" The army of the Lord defy ? 

•• Is there no man in all the host 

•• Can stop the mighty champion's boast? 

" Say, is there none who dares to go 

•• And meet him in the vale below, 

•'There fight with him, as he has said, 

" And lowly lay him with the dead ? " 

•• Are you," said one, "a stranger here. 
" And have you never chanced to hear 
" Or see this mighty man before, 

• • Whose words have troubled Israel sore ?- 
"This champion from the city, Gath, 

" The famous giant Goliath, 

•• Who comes at even tide and morn 

• • With words of pride and bitter scorn, 

• And boasting language, loud and high. 
" The host of Israel to defy ; 

'• While there is neither young nor old 

• Who dares to meet this warrior bold, 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 99 

" For there is none who ever yet 
" Encountered him but those who met 
"A bloody death — for who can stand 
"Before the giant's mighty hand? 
"The king would highly recompense 
"The hero who would take him hence — 
" Has promised wealth and power for life, 
" His daughter, too, to be his wife ; 
" But there is none who dares to go 
" And meet him in the vale below, 
"Although it humbles all our pride 
" To hear our armies thus defied." 

I saw while looking on the scene 
A warrior of commanding mien, 
Of stature tall, and robust frame; 
'Twas Eliab, I heard his name. 
He stood the stripling youth hard by, 
And looked on him with envious eye ; 
He seemed to know the stripling well, 
And thus he spake with haughty swell : 

" Vain-hearted boy, why are you here? 
" Why have you left our father dear, 
"And who, I ask you, now will keep 
" And guard that little flock of sheep ? 
" Full well I know your haughty heart, 
" You came not here to bear a part 
' ' Within the battle soon to be, 
"And which you only came to see." 

The youth replied : " My brother dear, 
"The reason why you see me here 
" I can explain" — then made a pause — 
" I came, and is there not a cause ? — 



RURAL RHYMES. 

"A cause for everything that's done 

" Beneath the circuit of the sun ; 

" Though now we may not see it clear, 

" In after days 'twill plain appear ; 

" So plain that we'll acknowledge then 

" God makes his instruments of men." 

He turned himself and spake again : 
" Ye men of Israel here remain ; 
" Flee not before this giant's face, 
" Although he comes of Anak's race; 
" Let no man's heart before him quail, 
" Let no man's spirits faint or fail, 
" Let no man yield to fell despair — 
" For there is one I know will dare 
'•To meet this mighty champion 
" Before the setting of the sun. 
"Yes, there is one who dares to go 
" And fight with this gigantic foe ; 
" For who is this uncircumcised 
" Who mischief 'gainst us has devised, 
" And who is he, let woe betide, 
" Who has the Lord of hosts defied." 

A murmur of applause arose, 

As rank on rank began to close, 

And it was said by one and all, 

" Go bear the tidings unto Saul ; 

" Go tell the king a youth is here 

" Who, with a look and voice sincere, 

" Declares that there's a champion 

" Who dares to meet that mighty one — 

" Will meet the boasting giant now, 

" And strip the helmet from his brow." 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 

A dozen messengers or more 
At once the welcome tidings bore, 
And one was ordered then to bring 
The stripling in before the king. 

He went, methought I followed too, 

Though strange it all may seem to you ; 

I followed wheresoe'er he went, 

I followed to the royal tent, 

And in and out I ventured free, 

For no one seemed to notice me. 

I've heard it said that men in sleep 

Can walk the heights, can walk the deep, 

Where waking feet would surely fall ; 

Even so walked I before King Saul. 

I saw that proud majestic mien, 

No living, waking eye has seen. 

I listened to the royal word 

No waking ear alive has heard, 

And stood the royal tent within 

Where, waking, I'll ne'er stand again ; 

And when the stripling entered, he 

The king accosted courteously. 

"They tell me," then the king began. 

"That you have found a valiant man 

" Who dares to meet the giant foe 

" And lay Philistia's champion low ; 

" I've sought from Beersheba to Dan, 

" But sought in vain for such a man; 

"Now tell me where, my son, is he, 

" And who can that brave champion be? " 

The youth replied : " My lord, oh king, 
"The warrior which to you I bring 



RURAL RHYMES. 

" May not your expectations meet-, 

" But let me now, oh king, repeat : 

" Let no man's heart or courage fail 

" Before this giant, clothed in mail ; 

" For I, before the setting sun, 

" Will meet and fight the champion ; 

" And all the world will know full well 

"That there's a God in Israel, 

" For who is he who makes his boasts 

"Against the mighty God of hosts?" 

As thus he spake before the king 

The courtiers all stood wondering ; 

A mingled look, surprise and awe, 

Upon each face methought I saw — 

Surprise, that one so very young 

Could move such numbers with his tongue ; 

That he, a youth with face so fair, 

To meet that mighty man should dare. 

The king surveyed the youth, intent 

With looks in which I saw were blent 

His hopes and fears, and something more : 

A feeling that, in days before, 

He'd seen that youth who boldly stood 

A champion for the multitude. 

He spake to him in accents mild : 
"Say, who are you, bold, daring child? 
" For you are but a child in years 
" Compared with him whom Israel fears ; 
" Nor should you dare, young man, to go 
" And fight the great Philistine foe ; 
" Too young you are, by far too small, 
" To meet the giant great and tall — 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 103 

" A man whom none has dared to face, 
•'The mightiest man of Anak's race, 
"Whose name and fame are known afar, 
" And feared by all our men of war." 

All eyes were on the stripling turned, 
All hearts with expectation burned, 
But on his radiant face there came 
Xo look of fear, no blush of shame. 
That look of hope and confidence, 
Which seemed to scorn discouragements, 
Still shone upon his features fair, 
And spoke a firm reliance there ; 
While still that something in his eye 
Attracted every passer by. 
He made a gesture with his hand — 
The king for silence gave command — 
And then the stripling bowed his head, 
And thus unto the king he said : 

" 'Tis true that my days upon earth have been few, 

" And I know not how soon they may end, 
" But I am quite willing to dare and to do, 

" And with that great giant contend. 
" You ask me, oh king : 'What! bold, daring youth, 

" ' A child in comparison true, 
" 'Now dares to engage with a giant in truth, 

" ' The largest the world ever knew ?' 

" My father, an old man, is now far away, 

" And his name I wish not to reveal ; 
" For if I should fall in the contest to-day, 

" From that father my death I'd conceal. 
" I'm the son of a shepherd, whose flocks I have kept 

" On the hills of Judea, alone, 



104 RURAL RHYMES. 

" And oft in the wilderness land I have slept, 
" Where the bear and the lion are known. 

* ' But lately there came a lion, a bear, 

" And they carried off one of the flock ; 
" I followed them then, and I followed them there 

" To a den in the cleft of a rock ; 
" The lion 'gainst me arose in his might, 

" And his roaring was terrible then ; 
" No sword I had there, but I slew him outright, 

"That terror of beasts and of men. 

"The lion I slew then, and also the bear, 

" And this boasting Philistine shall be 
" As those the fierce and savage beasts were, 

"And his head will be given to me. 
" You'll say it was rash and imprudent for one 

" So small and so young as I am 
"To grapple a lion, when help there was none, 

' ' To avenge but the loss of a lamb. 

" I knew it, I felt it, as onward I trod, 

" But something still whispering said : 
" ' Go on, in the strength of Israel's God, 

" 'And trust in Jehovah for aid.' 
" 1 went, but went not in a strength of my own, 

" I trusted in God the Most High, 
" And He who delivered me then when alone 

" Will succor me still when I cry. 

" I hear the same whispering voice even now, 

" It bids me undaunted go on, 
' ' And when I remember the lion and how 

" I conquered, my fears are all gone. 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 105 

" I fear not to meet with that giant so tall, 

" I dread not his sword or his spear ; 
"The God of high Heaven is stronger than all, 

"And trusting in Him I come here." 

I saw that as he spake his word 
A strong and deep emotion stirred 
Within the breast of every one 
Who chanced to hear, as I had done ; 
And even the king appeared to be 
Convinced that friendly destiny 
Had sent the youthful shepherd there, 
To do what others did not dare, 
And hope, unbidden, seemed to spring 
Within the bosom of the king, 
That he, that daring shepherd boy, 
Might turn their fear and grief to joy. 

" Go on," he said, " I give consent ; 

" Go on, and be you confident, 

"To meet that champion so dread 

" And fight the fight in our stead ; 

"And may the God of Jacob go 

"With you against the boasting foe, 

" And that you may 'gainst him prevail, • 

" I'll arm you with a coat of mail ; 

"This breastplate, too, and helmet take, 

" And wear them for your country's sake." 

The king's own armor then, forsooth, 
Was given to the shepherd youth, 
And he essayed with it to go 
Against the great Philistine foe, 
But soon returned that coat to doff 
And put the royal armor off. 



106 RURAL RHYMES. 

" I cannot move," said he, "with ease ; 
" I cannot go at all with these, 
" But I will go with weapons, such 
"As I have used and handled much — 
" My trusty sling, my shepherd's crook, 
" With stones from out the pebbly brook, 
"These are the weapons which I choose 
" Against this mighty man to use." 

With these, I saw from royal tent, 
He toward the giant swiftly went, 
While mighty warriors stood aghast 
As on and onward still he passed, 
Descending to the vale below 
Where still was seen the threat'ning foe, 
And there in expectation stood 
An anxious, waiting multitude. 

A tremor strange appeared to seize 
The king, who trembled in his knees. 
He spake to one and said, " O, sir ! 
" Pray tell me, Abner son of Ner, 
" Who is this strange, mysterious youth? 
" Speak now, and tell me all the truth, 
'"Who can this strange young warrior be, 
" Pray tell me now, whose son is he? 
" For surely, surely I have seen 
"That youth before, and know his mien ; 
' ' And surely, surely I have heard 
" That voice, which has so strangely stirred 
" Emotions in this breast of mine, 
" And bade me trust a power divine." 

The captain of the host replied : 

' ' From thee, O king, I would not hide 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 

"The name or station of the youth ■ 
" But, as thy soul shall live, in truth 
•' I know him not, nor .whence he came, 
" Nor do I know his father's name ; 
"A stranger he appears, and yet, 
" Like you, I feel that I have met 
" That bright, attractive, beaming eye, 
" Admiring it, not knowing why." 

" Go, Abner," said the king again ; 
"Inquire of all, till you obtain 
" A knowledge whence the stripling came, 
" Whose son he is and what his name; 
"And when the fact you ascertain, 

' Then quickly bring me word again ; 
" For fain would I that stripling know, 
" And whether he be friend or foe; 
" For there is something whispers me 

'That this strange youth perchance 'is he 
" Of whom the prophet Samuel spake, 
" Who in the coming time shall take 
"The sceptre from the house of Saul, 
" And reign a king o'er Israel all ; 
" Else why should I so strangely feel 
" A fear that I cannot conceal ?" 

Meanwhile the stripling moved along, 
And I, amid the wondering throng, 
Still followed him as I had done, 
Till he approached the champion, 
While he, the giant, came apace 
To meet the stripling face to face ; 
And thus he spake in haughty tone 
Unto that shepherd youth unknown : 



IOS RURAL RHYMES. 

" Come you," said he, "from Saul, the king? 

" And what's the message which you bring? 

" Has he, your king, selected yet 

" A man who dares without regret 

" To place his life in jeopardy, 

" And fight, for life or death, with me ?" 

" He has," the youth replied, "and I 
' ' Have come to conquer, or to die /" 
"You? you?" the giant said ; "indeed 
" You surely jest, I cannot heed 
' Such words from such a boy as you ; 
" Send me a warrior tried and true, 
" A warrior worthy of the name; 
" A man of power, a man of fame ; 
" A champion bold, a champion tried ; 
" A nation's choice, a nation's pride ; 
" For I am not a dog, that I 
' ' From boys with sticks and stones should fly. 
" Return, whate'er your name may be, 
" And do not dare encounter me ; 
" Lest I be tempted to resent 
" Such base insult with base intent, 
" And give your flesh, in very deed, 
"The fowls and beasts of prey to feed." 

The youth replied, in language meek : 
" You may be strong and I am weak, 
" Of giant size though you appear, 
' ' And tho' ) ou're arm'd with sword and spear 
" I do not heed your threat'ning boasts, 
' ' But, trusting in the God of hosts, 
" I come, the stripling that I am, 
" And God, the God of Abraham, 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. IO9 

" I trust in this my trying hour 

"Will nerve my feeble arm with power 

"To overcome a giant's strength, 

" That all the land throughout its length 

" Shall know that Israel's God is He 

" Who gives us strength and victory ; 

"And you, proud man, will soon be slain 

' ' By him whom you so much disdain ; 

" For ere the sun shall set to-day 

" I'll take that head of thine away, 

"And give your body, large indeed, 

" The vultures of the air to feed; 

" And all Philistia's host shall be 

" Appalled with fear, and they shall flee." 

"By Dagon, then," the giant said, 

" Come on, your blood be on your head ! 

" Since you have dared a bloody fate, 

" No longer will I hesitate 

"To send you hence, from life and ease, 

" To spirit land, the land of Hades ; 

" Your dainty form, so fair and frail, 

"Upon my spear will I impale, 

"And hold it up, that all may see 

" The end of youthful vanity." 

" I come," the stripling said, "I come ; 
" Now let your idol, deaf and dumb, 
" Assist you in the coming hour 
" Against Jehovah's mighty power." 

As thus the giant he addressed, 
Still on and forward yet he pressed, 
And near and nearer yet he drew, 
The giant moving forward too ; 



IIO RURAL RHYMES. 

When suddenly the stripling took 
A stone which came from out the brook, 
And placing it the sling within, 
He hurled it with a whizzing din. 
Unerringly the missile sped, 
And struck the giant on the head 
With such a force that it was plain 
The stone had sunk into his brain. 

He fell at once upon his face ; 
The stripling hurried on apace, 
Until I saw him victor stand 
Beside the giant, sword in hand ; 
For with the sword the giant wore 
I saw him stand the giant o'er, 
And from the giant's body, dead, 
I saw him cut the gory head, 
And as a trophy bear it hence 
In triumph, toward the royal tents. 

But now, Philistia's champion dead, 
Philistia's hosts in terror fled ; 
"With dread, dismay and fear imbued, 
They fled, and fiercely were pursued 
By all the host of Israel then, 
And many were the foemen slain. 

The stripling joined in that pursuit, 
A warrior bold, beyond dispute, 
And when the fierce pursuit was o'er 
He came the conquering host before, 
And there were plaudits loud and long, 
The women joining in the song 
Of triumph, which the victors sang, 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 

While instruments of music rang 
A loud acclaim of general joy, 
To welcome that victorious boy. 

Great Abner, then, the son of Ner, 
Approached the youth and said : "Brave sir, 
" Receive a nation's welcoming — 
' ' Let me conduct you to the king, 
" Who waits to learn whose son you are, 
"And how you came such deeds to dare — 
" To thank you for the victory won, 
" And hail you Israel's champion." 

Again he came before the king, 

Whose welcome then was flattering: 

" Brave youth," he said, "a warrior true, 

' ' Pray tell me now whose son are you ? — 

" Your name and residence pray tell, 

' ' And what your tribe in Israel ? 

" Your father's house I fain would make 

" Illustrious for your valor's sake." 

The youth, with modesty, replied : 

" My name, O king, I've ne'er denied ; 

' ' My father lives at Bethlehem, 

" He came of Judah's tribe or stem, 

" And I'm your servant Jesse's son, 

" Who kept the sheep, his youngest one, 

" And often times within your hall 

" I played the harp before King Saul." 

Though 'twas in sleep those things occurred, 
And but a dream I saw and heard, 
'Twas David, son of Jesse, sure — 
His name I oft had heard before — 



RURAL RHYMES. 

'Twas David, Israel's shepherd king, 

Who long ago did sweetly sing 

Those pious Psalms, which have come down 

With radiance "brighter than his crown, 

And will a monument endure 

Till things of time shall be no more, 

Till bright eternity shall dawn 

And monuments of stone be cone. 



DAVID'S THREE MIGHTY MEN. 

2d Samuel, 22:13. 

Within Judea's rocky hold 

Judea's warrior chieftain lay, 
And there his chosen soldiers bold 

Watched round him thro' the sultry day. 
Upon his brow the fever burned, 

And raged like fire his breast within, 
While backward still his thoughts were turn'd 

To where his early home had been ; 
Back to the place where long ago, 

In boyhood's youthful happy day, 
He tuned his harp to music's flow 

And sang the shepherd's evening lay. 
Amid these scenes he seemed to dwell, 

His thoughts reverted back to them ; 
He longed for waters from the well — 

The famous well of Bethlehem. 

The fever seemed to parch his brain, 
His burning thirst was raging sore, 



david's three mighty men. 113 

And though he drank, and drank again, 

He thirsted still and longed for more. 
" Oh, that some one," the chieftain said, 

" Would bring me living water now, 
With which to bathe my aching head 

And cool my ever burning brow. 
I drink the waters of the hold, 

But small relief to me they bring ; 
I long for waters pure and cold 

That come from out the gushing spring. 
I ask not power, that magic spell — 

I ask not gold nor costly gem ; 
But oh ! for waters from the well, 

The famous well of Bethlehem. 

" My fancy hurries me away, 

Amid my wild and feverish dreams, 
To where the limpid waters play 

Along the winding pebbled streams ; 
I see each well remembered rill 

That e'er my happy boyhood knew, 
As, hurrying from the vine-clad hill, 

They pass the rolling meadow through. 

" I hear the bleating of the sheep, 

Amid the pastures decked with green, 
And when I wake, I wake to weep 

At such a vain, illusive scene. 
Oh, how I long, no tongue can tell, 

To be at home again with them, — 
To drink the waters of the well 

Hard by the gate of Bethlehem. 

' ' But I have wandered far away, 

And years have passed me swiftly by. 



114 RURAL RHYMES. 

I've mingled in the battle fray, 

And seen the mighty foefnan die ; 
I've sought the phantom light of fame, 

A royal camp and court within ; 
I've sought and gained a warrior's name — 

Long time a warrior I have been. 
Though royalty has decked my brow, — 

A kingly scepter though I sway, — 
I do not feel the pleasures now 

I did in boyhood's youthful day ; 
And though I wear a crown of gold, 

I'd give my glittering diadem 
For water from that fountain cold — 

That well, the well of -Bethlehem. 

" Though in this mountain fort confined 

I lie and pine from day to day, 
My moving thoughts are unconfined, 

And they are wandering far away. 
Those truant thoughts still spurn control ; 

They come and go without my will ; 
Like to the restless waves they roll, 

And never, never will be still. 
But all my longings are in vain, 

And vain, alas ! is my desire ; 
For enemies upon the plain 

Are round me like a wall of fire : 
My foes beleaguer me around ; 

They 're spread abroad in Rephaim, 
And all Philistia's host is found 

Between this hold and Bethlehem." 

Three youthful warriors, standing by, 

O'er heard their chieftain's sad complaint, 



DAVIDS THREE MIGHTY MEN. 

And they resolved to do or die, 

Despite of danger or restraint. 
They took their course toward Bethlehem. 

They left the hold at fall of night, 
And through the vale of Rephaim 

They passed in armor strong but light. 
In vain Philistia's hosts oppose, 

In vain those valorous men assail ; 
Those warriors three withstood their foes, 

Against them fought and did prevail : 
They fought, their lives determining to sell, 

Within that vale of Rephaim, 
Or, conquering, gain the famous well 

Hard by the gate of Bethlehem. 

Then through the mighty host they break, 

And on the dangerous way pursue, 
Nor could their baffled foes o'ertake 

Those youthful warriors, brave and true. 
They passed the vale of Rephaim, 

They passed o'er hill, through dale and glen, 
Till at the gate of Bethlehem 

They stood beside the famous well. 
And water from that well they drew, — 

'Twas from a clear and living vein, — 
And then returning, breaking through 

Philistia's mighty host again, 
They to their chieftain come, and tell 

The things that had befallen them. 
' ' See ! here is water from the well ! 

That well, the well of Bethlehem !" 

*' Oh ! how intense I've longed for this," 
The suffering chieftain said. " Indeed, 



IJ 5 



I I 6 RURAL RHYMES. 

It surely cannot come amiss 

In this extremity ol need. 
Bring me a goblet ; I will drink 

And quench my burning thirst once more." 
But hold ! what makes the monarch shrink ? 

•• 'bis red ! 'tis tinged with blood and gore I 
I cannot drink, for, see, ah, see, 

It sure is blood — the blood of those 
Who put their lives in jeopardy 

When passing through their countless foes ; 
The blood of those who vowed to sell 

Their lives in bloody Rephaim. 
( >r bring me water from the well, 

The famous well of Bethlehem. 

" Go pour it out upon the ground. 

A fit libation to the Lord ; 
And when prosperity is found, 

Those men shall have a rich reward." 
'Twas done. The king came to his own, 

And peace and kingly power returned. 
He sat upon King David's throne — 

A mighty monarch, wise and learned. 
And these three valiant men became 

The chief of David's mighty band, 
And stood upon the mount of tame, 

The chief in all Judea's land. 
Three thousand years have past, and still 

Historic pages speak oi them. 
Who brought that water from the well. 

The famous well of Bethlehem. 



david's lamentation for saul and Jonathan. 117 

DAVID'S LAMENTATION FOR SAUL AND JON- 
ATHAN 

2d Samuel, i and 17th. 

How are the mighty fallen now ; 

And oh ! how low the valiant lie ! 
Pale is the mighty monarch's brow, 

And dim the warrior's eagle eye. 
Let mournful notes of sorrow swell, 

And tears bedim the weeping eye : 
The beautiful in Israel 

Is slain upon her places high. 

Oh, tell it not within the street, 

The street of Askelon the proud, 
Nor yet the story sad repeat 

In Gath, nor spread the news abroad, — 
Lest they, our enemies, rejoice, 

And triumph o'er the bloody fall 
Of him who was the nation's choice, 

The valiant-hearted soverign Saul. 

Upon thy mount, O Gilboa, 

Let there be neither dew nor rain, 
For there the shield was cast away, 

And there was the annointed slain. 
Let sacrifices never more, 

Nor fields of offering be made, 
Upon that mountain stained with gore, 

Where Israel's mighty chieftain bled. 

Where now the conquering sword of Saul, 
Which ne'er came bloodless back again ? 

The bow of Jonathan, withal, 
So often bent nor bent in vain ? 



n8 



RURAL RHYMES. 



Oh, perished are those weapons now ! 

They perished when the mighty fell 
Upon the rugged mountain's brow, 

Where sank the pride of Israel. 

More swift than eagles in their flight, 

Far swifter Jonathan and Saul. 
As strong as lions in their might. 

And pleasant were they yet withal ; 
Most lovely were they in their lives, 

Nor severed in their dying day. 
The memory of the brave survives, 

And will while ages roll away. 

O weep, ye Hebrew daughters now, 

For Saul who clothed you with delight,. 
Put ornaments upon the brow, 

Of gold and silver jewels bright ; 
Who clothed you in apparel gay, 

With robes of scarlet fair and fine : 
Oh, weep, and chant a dirge to-day, 

And join your notes of grief with mine. 
How fallen are the mighty men ! 

The first and foremost in the fray. 
Oh, Jonathan ! thou, too, wast slain 

Upon the mount of Gilboa. 
How fallen, on the mountain's brow, 

Those men of war, those men of state ! 
How perished are the weapons now 

Of Saul and Jonathan the great. 

Oh, Jonathan, my brother dear ! 

For thee, alas, I am distressed. 
How lovely and how pleasant were 

Thv words to me when sore distressed. 



PREACHING TO THE NINEVITES. II9 

Thy love was passing strange to me, 

Surpassing woman's love to man. 
Oh, Jonathan ! adieu to thee, 

Adieu, my brother Jonathan. 



PREACHING TO THE NINEVITES. 

'Twas in the flight of ages past, 

And in a region far away, 
There stood a city unsurpassed 

By any in Assyria. 
'Twas ruled and governed by a king, 

As such large cities often were, 
But there was many an evil thing, 

And wickedness abounded there. 

And as in wealth and power it grew, 

It grew in wickedness and sin ; 
But there was One above who knew 

And marked iniquity therein. 
Exceeding great was Nineveh — 

None greater in that eastern clime — 
And as the years still rolled away 

It grew in wealth, it grew in crime. 

At length there came at eventide 

A stranger from a foreign land, 
Who, passing through the city, cried 

The vengeance of the Lord at hand. 
He heeded not the public gaze, 

As through the streets he passed alone, 
And cried aloud, "Yet forty days 

And Nineveh shall be o'erthrown." 



RURAL RHYMES. 

As thus in strange apparel clad, 

(A foreign accent on his tongue), 
He passed, with countenance pale and sad, 

And clarion-like his voice rung : 
"Ho! Ninevites, beware the day! 

" Repent, and for your deeds atone ; 
" Yet forty days and Nineveh, 

" Great Nineveh shall be o'erthrown ! " 

At first his words unheeded fell, 

And many mocked and jeered aloud, 
But still in solemn tone they swell 

Above and through the surging crowd. 
Still louder and more earnest grew 

His words, with awe-inspiring tone — 
" Yet forty days, alas ! how few ! 

"And Nineveh shall be o'erthrown." 

The night had passed, the morning came, 

That preacher strange again appeared, 
The same strange message to proclaim, 

And day by day his voice was heard, 
From street to street he made his way, 

And cried in that same solemn tone : 
" Ere forty have passed away 

" Great Nineveh shall be o'erthrown." 

That message, like the knell of doom, 

Fell heavily upon each ear ; 
Then mockery ceased, and in its room 

There came a dread and solemn fear. 
'Twas felt by all, both high and low ; 

It seized the king upon his throne ; 
Alas ! alas ! it must be so — 

Great Nineveh will be o'erthrown ! 



PREACHING TO THE NINEVITES. 

The king proclaimed a solemn fast 

Throughout the length of his domain : 
■" Until those forty days have passed 

" Let man and beast from food abstain. 
" Cry mightily to God on high, 

" And make our deep contrition known; 
•" Perhaps that God will hear our cry, 

"That Nineveh be not o'erthrown." 

When God, who sent that prophet there 

And bade him thus to prophesy, 
Had heard their fervent, humble prayer, 

He listened to the suppliant cry. 
Though He had said that Nineveh 

Should fall, and be to ruin brought, 
When from their sins they turned away, 

Repented Him, and did it not. 

Yet some there be, that know the plan 

Of Deity, pretend to say 
That things decreed ere time began 

Cannot be changed, howe'er we pray ; 
That those who were by God contemned 

And passed, in his great first decree, 
May pray in vain, they're still condemned, 

And lost to all eternity. 

It seems the prophet thought so too, 

And he was angry at the change ; 
That God had said that He would do 

And did it not, to him was strange. 
The kind compassion of his Lord 

Poor mortal man condemns outright, 
And yet compassionates a gourd, 

Which grows and withers in a night ! 



POEMS, DESCRIPTIVE AND MILI- 
TARY. 



THE HORRORS OF CIVIL WAR. 

A DREAM. 

This poem was written in April, 1S61, and was intended as a kind of prophecy 
.-r guess at the events about to follow. How far the prediction was fulfilled, and 
how far it failed, those who lived through those years of war can answer. 

A dream I have had, so wild and so strange, 

It lasted the whole of the night ; 
Through days, weeks and months my fancy did range, 

Till waked by the bright morning light. 
I stood, as I thought, on a wire-hung bridge, 

That spanned the Ohio's bold flood, 
And the banks of the stream, the vale, and the ridge. 

Were stained, they were crimson with blood. 

I saw that the waters which glided below 

Were tinged with the blood of the slain. 
Whose bodies were borne by the stream in its flow 

Aw av toward a far southern main. 
Ah. dismal the scenes that arose to my view. 

The demon of war had been there ; 
Sad and mournful the sight, and sick my heart grew. 

For ruin was everywhere. 

Hard by rose a city, 'twas Wheeling I thought ; 

Its streets were deserted and lone; 
Civil war. desolation and ruin had wrought, 

And commerce and plenty had flown. 



THE HORRORS OF CIVIL WAR. I 23 

The gay, busy throng that once crowded its street 

I now looked in vain to behold ; 
Processions moved slow to the drums muffled beat, 

And the bells for a funeral tolled. 

Far away to the south, far away to the west, 

The ensigns of war were in view, 
And the land by the foot of the spoiler was pressed, 

By the conquered and conquerors too. 
Far away to the north and to the northwest 

The war sounding bugb was heard, 
And brothers once borne on the same mother's breast 

In hostile array now appeared. 

But soon a change came o'er my dream, 

And all its scenes were shifted, 
And I adown life's troubled stream 

For days and weeks had drifted ; 
And, drifting down the stream of time, 

It seemed a mighty river, 
Which, flowing toward a southern clime, 

Seemed rolling onward ever. 

And drifting down that turbid stream. 

So like the Mississippi, 
These warning words disturbed dream : 

" I'll meet thee at Phillippi." 
A city of the foremost rank 

My floating bark seemed nearing, 
'Twas built upon the western bank, 

And Western men were cheering. 

The shouts of victory loud were heard 
Amid the notes of wailing, 



124 RURAL RHYMES. 

And far away fair freedom's bird 
With drooping wing was sailing. 

Well might it flee, since peace had fled — 
The Greek had met the Greek there — 

And brothers' blood, by brothers shed, 
Had mingled in the street there. 

"Oh, whence," I asked, "this dire mischief, 

" And what has caused this madnes; 
And why are some o'erwhelmed with grief 

And others wild with gladness ? 
Can men of feeling heart rejoice 

O'er such a scene of slaughter. 
Or answer with insulting voice 

A brother's cry for quarter? " 

Vet so it was, or seemed to be — 

No mercy sure is due us — 
Alas, for man's perversity ! 

Alas, for proud St. Louis ! 

But now the scene was changed again, 
And marshalled on a spacious plain 

Two armies were in motion ; 
Full twenty thousand fighting men 
Were drawn together there and then, 
And wave on wave they came, as when 

The storm has lashed the ocean. 

One army high, a flag unfurled — 
A flag respected o'er the world, 

And known by every nation ; 
The other raised a banner too, 
Its colors red and white to view — 
A flag whose stars and stripes were few, 

And 'twas of modern fashion. 



THE HORRORS OF CIVIL WAR. 12$ 

And ranged beneath those flags were men 
Who seemed determined to conquer when 

The battle storm should lower ; 
Full soon it came, and oh ! the shock — 
Such scenes my powers of language mock — 
I stood transfixed as any rock, 

To stir without the power. 

Then thrice the deadly onset came, 
And thrice the issue seemed the same, 

Each still on each encroaching ; 
But hark ! what sound is that afar? 
The bugle's note, the cannon's jar ! 
And see that flag with stripe and star 

The scene of strife approaching ! 

A reinforcement from the north 
In countless numbers issued forth, 

And soon the conflict ending ; 
The smoke of battle rolled away, 
And there in death the thousands lay, 
Who met and fell in battle fray, 

With brothers all contending. 

An awful scene it was to view — 

God grant my dream may ne'er prove true — 

The mangled dead and dying, 
Were mixed and mingled here and there, 
And pools of blood were every where, 
And dying men, unused to prayer, 

For mercy then were crying. 

The shout of victory died away, 
As shades of evening closed the day, 
And nature, hushed in silence, 



126 RURAL RHYMES. 

Seemed mourning o'er her broken laws, 
That man, for such a trivial cause, 
Should madly rush into the jaws 

Of war, and death, and violence. 

Changes still my dream came o'er ; 

Rapidly those changes passed, 
Fir-t, upon the ocean's shore, 
Then, upon the prairie vast ; 

But the theme was still the same, 
Every where, 
Men were marching to and fro, 
Causing blood and tears to flow, 
Covering the land with woe, 

Once so fair. 

Far upon the briny deep, 

Where I never went before, 

Traveled I, last night, in sleep — 

Sailing half the ocean o'er — 

But to 'scape the scene was vain, 
It was there ; 
There, upon the ocean wide, 
There, upon the swelling tide, 
Ships of war, with blood bedyed, 
Sailing were. 

Though the night was clear and mild, 

And the moon and stars were bright, 
Yet a tempest, fierce and wild, 
Came before the morning light ; 
Not a tempest such as wakes 
Ocean's foam, 
But of angry, human strife, 
Scenes of blood with carnage rife — 



THE HORRORS OF CIVIL WAR. I 27 

Brother seeking brother's life, — 
Far from home. 

There, I saw those banners raised, 

Those I saw in fight before ; 
There, the murdering cannon blazed, 
With a dread and deafening roar, 
Cries of agony were heard 
To resound, 
And upon each bloody deck 
Men were moving, wild and quick, 
While the slain were falling thick 
All around. 

Still the contest fiercer grew, 

Fiercer yet the battle raged, 
Whilst the red, the white and blue, 
'Gainst the modern flag engaged ; 
But to tell the closing scene, 

Tongue would fail. 
Both those ships in air were blown, 
Friend and foe aloft were thrown, 
And the sea with fragments strewn, 
Told the tale. 

Thus it was, throughout the night, — 

Ranging fancy's wild domain, — 
Nothing met my sleeping sight 
But such scenes as gave me pain ; 

How long ! I asked, how long until 
Strife shall cease ; 
Must this civil war still waste 
Freedom's land by science graced ? 
Haste the time, great Ruler, haste 
Smiling peace. 



128 RURAL RHYMES. 

List the answer : " Time will prove ; 

From the time the war begun, 
Mars, the God of War, shall move 
His fiery chariot round the sun ; 

Then shall arms throughout the land 
Cease to gleam." 
Such the answering words, which fell 
In thunder tones that seemed to swell, 
Until they woke and broke the spell 
Of my dream. 



THE BATTLE OF LONE JACK. 

Fought on the ioth of August, 1862. 

'Twas August, and faintly the sunbeams were falling, 

And gently the breezes of summer passed by, 
But they bore to my ears a sound most appalling, 

For death-dealing cannon were thundering nigh ; 
The roar of the cannon and small arms were blended, 
The smoke of the battle to Heaven ascended, 
While friends of the Union 'gainst foemen contended, 

And fought hand to hand, at the town of Lone Jack. 

The battle began at the early sun-rising, 

The hours passed on and the battle still raged ; 
I listened intent, and my thoughts were devising 

Some means of escape for the friends there engaged. 
I knew the Confed'rates by thousands were counted, 
The soldiers in blue to eight hundred amounted, 
The chances against them I fearfully counted, 

And tremblingly thought of their fate at Lone Jack. 



THE BATTLE OF LONE JACK. I2Q 

No word could I get from the conflict before me, 
No messenger came from the harvest of Death ; 

Nought but the report which the musketry bore me, 
That men were contending for victory's wreath : 

And victory's wreath the fates were withholding; 

But the roar of the cannon a tale was unfolding, 

The friends of the Union were there still upholding 

The stars and the stripes at the town of Lone Jack. 

Four hours wore on, and the cannon ceased roaring — 

The sound of the musketry, too, died away — 
A prayer from the depth of my soul was outpouring, 
" May God help the friends of the Union to-day !" 
And now that the conflict of battle was ended, 
My thought and my reason seemed lost and suspended — 
I felt that the friends who so nobly defended 

Our flag, were all captured or killed at Lone Jack. 

Not long did suspense and uncertainty hold me, 
A cavalry force was approaching in view — 

They came on apace, and my anxious eye told me 
'Twas friends of the Union, the soldiers in blue : 

They passed by me then in a hurried progression, 

File following file in rapid succession, 

Those heroes who fought 'gainst the hosts of secession, 
And watered with blood the small town of Lone Jack. 

But many were left on the dread field of action, 

The dead and the dying and wounded were there, 
Away from sweet home and its every attraction, 

Away from their friends and their relatives dear ; 
And there now in silence those heroes are sleeping. 
Though years have rolled by, and the voice of weeping 
Is hushed in their homes, and we are now reaping 

The fruits of their labors performed at Lone Jack. 



I30 RURAL RHYMES. 

SPOTTSYL VANIAS WILDERNESS. 

'Twas when the great rebellion raged, 

'Twas in its darkest, saddest hours, 
When Grant and Lee fierce conflict waged, 

And marshalled their opposing powers ; 
When madly surging, like the swell 

Of ocean, deep and fathomless, 
The tide of battle rose and fell 

In Spottsylvania's wilderness. 

'Twas then I saw Alonzo first, 

I saw him in the Union line, 
And where the storm of battle burst 

He bore, aloft, the proud ensign : 
He waved that banner overhead, 

And shouted, " Comrades, onward press 
" 'Tis victory now, or gory bed, 

" In Spottsylvania's wilderness." 

I saw him next, as pale and wan, 

Upon the field of strife he lay ; 
The struggling hosts were moving on, 

And still contending, miles away ; 
Amongst the mangled and the dead, 

He lay in anguish and distress, 
All pale upon his gory bed, 

In Spottsylvania's wilderness. 

A night of darkness and of gloom 

Had passed, and at the morning's dawn 

He woke as waking from the tomb, 

With countenance pale and woe-begone ; 

No tender, nursing hand was there, 

No surgeon came, his wounds to dress, 



spottsylvania's wilderness. 131 

But there was One who heard his prayers 
From out that gory wilderness. 

All helpless, mangled, pale and weak, 

With racking pain and anguish riven ; 
In whispers only he could speak — 

Those whispers faint were heard in Heaven, 
And succor, timely succor, came. 

It found him in his helplessness, 
And bore his bleeding, mingled frame 

From out that gory wilderness. 

His banner, with a soldier's pride, 

He begged might still with him be borne — 
That banner which his blood had dyed, 

And which the bursting shell had torn ; 
'Twas bound around his shattered arm — 

That arm wh ch bore it, proudly, yes, 
Amid the raging battle storm, 

In Spottsylvania's wilderness. 

Alonzo lives, and often, since, 

I've met him in life's busy din ; 
His crutch and empty sleeve evince 

In what a conflict he has been ; 
And, ah ! how many wounded thus 

We meet, and pass, and ne'er express 
Our thanks that they have bled for us, 

In passing war's dread wilderness. 

Oh! may the nation ne'er forget 

The men who, in that hour of gloom, 

Stood by its flag— the foemen met — 
Nor quailed amid the cannon's boom ; 



132 RURAL RHYMES. 

May monuments be raised, which will 
A people's gratitude express 

To those who 'neath that banner fell, 
In passing through that wilderness. 

And may the gallant soldier who, 

Alonzo like, has lost a limb, 
Be cheered life's weary journey through, 

To know the nation cares for him. 
O may the many thousand such, 

Ne'er suffer from our thanklessness, 
But may our sympathetic touch 

Be felt through life's sad wilderness. 



THE HOME-SICK SOLDIER. 

There is a spot, far, far away, 

To that my thoughts will roam, 
I think of it by night and day — 
It is my home, my home. 
When shall I see my home, 
O when shall I get home ? 
Long time, alas ! I've been away 
From that my peaceful home. 

Amid the thunders of the war, 

Amid its bloody foam, 
I've borne aloft the stripe and star, 
Far, far away from home ; 
I've wandered far from home, 
Far, far away from home, 
I think by day, and dream at night, 
Of that once happy home. 



THE HOME-SICK SOLDIER. 133 

I oft have met my country's foes, 

And thought that Greece nor Rome 
Ne'er boasted braver men than those 
That marched with me from home; 
But they are far from home — 
They sigh for friends and home — 
And many sleep in bloody graves, 
Far, far away from home. 

I had a brother dear, and we 
Together plowed the loam, 
Together marched and fought, but he 
Will never see our home. 

He ne'er will see his home — 
Our father's happy home — 
He fell upon the battle-field, 
Far, far away from home. 

And I was, then, by fate compelled 

To meet a prison's gloom — 
A prisoner of war I'm held, 
Away from friends and home. 
O, when shall I get home — 
When shall I see my home ? 
Long time, it seems, I've been away 
From that my peaceful home. 



134 RURAL RHYMES. 

THE BANDLl'S BREAM; OR, HILLS OF 
SNIABAR, 

The night was one of splendor, 

The moon was riding high, 
A horseman, tall and slender, 

Rode by the winding Sni — 
Past many a lonely dwelling, 

And by deserted farms,* 
Which silently were telling 

Of war, and war's alarms ; 
He rode along all careless. 

He noted not the scene, 
For he was wild and fearless, 

And wore a bandit's mien ; 
He from his native villa 

Had wandered here afar, 
And roamed a stern guerrilla 

On the hills of Sniabar. 

But now the mcon is sinking 

Away into the west — 
Of what can he be thinking, 

And why so much depressed ? 
He rides no longer fearless, 

Along the winding Sni, 
But from a cabin cheerless, 

He looks with glaring eye ; 
Tis something sure appalling 

Has met the bandit's gaze, 
Else, why shoirld he be falling 

Into such dread amaze ; 
For he, a reckless ranger, 

Has trampled stripe and star, 

* The land was cepopulated and desilated by "Order No. it," in the 
winter of 1S6?. 



THE BANDITS DREAM; OR, HILLS OF SN1ABAR. 135 

And courted crime and danger 
On the hills of Sniabar. 



The night is past and over, 

The morning comes anew, 
He seeks a fellow-rover, 

And bids him thus adieu : 
' I can no longer stand it, 

' ' To live the life we lead ; 
' I've been a bloody bandit, 

" A bloody one, indeed, 
' But I have seen a vision — 

" A vision of the dead — 
' I see you look derision, 

' ' As doubting what I've said ; 
' But 'tis not fear of danger 

" That takes me from you far, 
' To be no more a ranger 

" On the hills of Sniabar." 

' Now listen while I tell you 

' : The fearful things I saw — 
' To see them would impel you 

" From Quantrell to withdraw. 
' Last night while I was waking, 

" And watching all alone, 
' I saw a spectre taking 

' ' A seat hard by my own : 
' My father, who has slumbered 

" In death for many suns, 
' And who I trust is numbered 

" Amongst the happy ones; 
' 'Twas he — I saw and knew him 

" By the light of moon and star- 



I36 RURAL RHYMES. 



" My crimes it was that drew him 
" To the hills of Sniabar." 

" And, as I sat in terror, 

" Unable to withdraw, 
" The spectre held a mirror, 
" In which I plainly saw 
" Myself as in my childhood, 

" In innocence and truth, 
" Our cottage-home, the wildwood, 

" The happy scenes of youth; 
" I saw my schoolmates playing 

" Upon the village green, 
" And I with loud hurrahing 

" In that gay crowd was seen; 
" But the pleasant sight was fading, 

" Those youths were sundered far, 
" And one through blood was wading, 

" On the hills of Sniabar." 

11 But then there came another, 

" And yet a dearer scene — 
et I saw my doting mother, 

" My sister Josephine, 
" The faces of my brothers 

" Were in the mirror there, 
" And yet I saw another — 

" The fairest of the fair; 
" They looked as last I saw them, 

" With pitying eyes on me, 
" When something seemed to draw them 

" To read my destiny; 
" That destiny unchanging, 

" Beneath an evil star, 



THE BANDITS DREAM; OR, HILLS OF SNIABAR. I37 

" Has sent me madly ranging 
" The hills of Sniabar." 

" As oft that mirror shifted, 

" The scenes were shifted to, 
"As though a curtain lifted 

" Exposed them to my view. 
" I saw a man lie gasping — 

" His blood was flowing warm — 
" And a weeping wife was clasping 

" His mangled, bleeding form ; 
" I saw his paling features, 

" And knew them all too well— 
" One of my fellow-creatures. 

" And by my hands he fell, 
" And in his grave, unheeding, 

" I thought he slept afar, 
" But sure I saw him bleeding 

" On the hills of Sniabar." 

" Another form all gory 

" Within that glass appears — 
" A man whose head was hoary 

" With the frosts of fifty years; 
" He, too, I saw was lying 

" And weltering in his gore — 
" I saw him bleeding, dying, 

" As I saw him once before, 
" When all devoid of anguish, 

" And a heart as hard as stone, 
" I left him there to languish, 

" And bleed and die alone : 
" But now my fears had bound me 

" To Death's ensanguined car, 



138 RURAL RHYMES. 

" And victims crowded round me 
" On die hills of Sniabar." 

" Then came that victim youthful, 

" With eyes so mild and blue, 
" Who died for speaking truthful 

" Concerning me and you. 
" He looked as when he pleaded 

'• For life at our hands, 
" And a mother interceded 

" With stern guerrilla bands; 
" But vain was all his pleading, 

" In vain the mother wept, 
" He sank to earth all bleeding, 

" And there in death he slept; 
" But though he sleeps with numbers 

" With nought his peace to mar, 
" He haunts me in my slumbers 

" On the hills of Sniabar." 

" 'Twas thus the scenes kept changing, 

" But each was full of dread, 
" And I it seemed was ranging 

" Amid a host of dead ; 
" A burning town before me — 

" The flames were spreading free — 
" And fancy's vision bore me 

" To Lawrence massacre. 
" I saw our victims lying 

" Upon the bloody street, 
" While we in haste were flying 

" Back to our wild retreat. 
" A thousand scenes of terror 

•' Arose, my peace to mar, 



THE BANDIT'S DREAM; OR, HILLS OF SNIABAR. 139 

" Reflected in that mirror 
" On the hills of Sniabar." 

" I'll quit this life of pillage, 

" These scenes of blood and strife, 
" And in some quiet village 

" Reform my wayward life, 
" No longer will I join you 

" In reckless, wild forays, 
" And may kind Heaven incline you 

" To leave these sinful ways; 
" Nay, nay, do not resist me, 

'■ My course is taken now, 
" And Oh ! may God assist me 

" To keep my sacred vow. 
" I never more may greet you — 

" I'm going hence afar — 
" But spectres oft will meet you 

" On the hills of Sniabar." 

" And when within that mirror 

" You see, as I have seen, 
" Those scenes of blood and terror 

" Upon these hills so green, 
" You'll feel, as I am feeling, 

" A weight of guilty fears, 
" While conscience stands revealing 

" The deeds of bygone years. 
" Ah ! little did I ever 

" Expect so sad a sight, 
" And may I witness, never, 

" The scenes of the last night; 
" Oh! not for wealth uncounted, 

" Nor throne of king or czar, 



140 RURAL RHYMES. 

" Would I see my crimes recounted 
" On the hills of Sniabar." 



THE DYING SOLDIER AT LONE JACK. 

A soldier of the Union lay 

Sore wounded at Lone Jack, 
And as his life-blood ebbed away, 

His thoughts were wandering back — 
Back to his childhood's early home, 

Back to his native land, 
And dreaming fancy seemed to roam 

Amid a kindred band. 

No wife or child beside him now, 

Though wife and child he had ; 
No comrade bathed his bloody brow— 

His comrades all had fled ; 
And there upon that hard-fought field, 

In that small village street, 
He lay with those who scorned to yield, 

Disdaining to retreat. 

No kinsman's hand or voice was nigh 

To minister relief ; 
But yet there was a pitying eye 

Looked on the scene with grief — 
A stranger, though a friend, stood near 

The dying soldier's side, 
And wept, his dreaming talk to hear, 

And soothed him till he died. 



THE DYING SOLDIER AT LONE JACK. 141 

Through scenes of youth he seemed to pass ; 

Though now his hair was gray, 
And once again he led his class, 

As in his schoolboy's day ; 
He called his playmates' names, although 

None answered to his call, 
For some had died long years ago, 

And far, far distant all. 

He often called his father's name — 

He called his brother's, too — 
But ofter.er, still, his mother came 

Within his dreaming view ; 
He seemed to think that mother near, 

And for her hand would feel, 
'Twould melt the hardest heart to hear 

His piteous appeal : 

" O, mother, help your little son — 

" My head is aching sore, 
" And here I lie, with pillows none, 

" Upon the cold, hard floor. 
" O, lay me on my trundle bed, 

" Or take me on your knee — 
" She does not hear what I have said ; 

" O, where can mother be?" 

Anon the scene would change, and he 

By fancy still beguiled, 
A husband — father — seemed to be, 

And spoke of wife and child ; 
He spake of them so tenderly, 

So often called their names, 
Though absent, yet 'twas plain that they 

Were present in his dreams. 



I4 2 RURAL RHYMES. 

His days of early manhood came, 

And passed in plain review, 
His constant struggles after fame, 

His disappointments, too ; 
He spoke of hardships undergone, 

He spoke of dangers passed, 
And still his thoughts kept wandering on, 

And wandered to the last. 

But then more recent scenes appeared, 

To claim his wandering thought — 
The storm which civil war had stirred, 

The sufferings it had wrought ; 
Upon his home and family 

His thoughts appeared to dwell, 
With them, again, he seemed to be — 

To them he bade farewell : 

" Farewell, my wife, my children all — 

' ' My country calls away, 
" And can I hear my country call, 

" And not the call obey ? 
" I go, and 'ere I shall come back, 

" Grim war shall cease to frown ; 
" I go, though men may call me black, 

" To put rebellion down." 

" I go, my wife ; I go, my son, 

" The Union to sustain, 
" For North and South shall still be one, 

" And one shall still remain. 
" I go, and if I ne'er return, 

" Farewell, ye loved ones all — 
" And if I fall, I trust you'll learn 

" I fell as man should fall." 



THE DYING SOLDIER AT LONE JACK. 143 

But then his fancy more and more, 

And wilder seemed to roam — 
He seemed to think the war was o'er, 

And he was safe at home, 
And there, as if to friends, he told 

Of war and war's alarms, 
Of many a comrade soldier bold, 

And many a feat of arms. 

Of conflicts sore, he spake of one — 

A sore, a bloody fight — 
The hard day's march from Lexington, 

The skirmish of the night, 
Spoke of the sleepless bivouac, 

As on their arms they lay 
Within the village town Lone Jack, 

To wait the coming day. 

And then he spake of the attack, 

Which came at early morn — 
The rebel charge, the falling back — 

The hedge and growing corn. 
He spoke of deeds of daring done, 

Of many a soldier slain, 
The loss of the artillery gun, 

The taking it again. 

But here his memory seemed to fail — 

His voice was failing too — 
Alas ! he ne'er will tell the tale 

To those he loved so true : 
Some other tongue to them will tell 

The story he essayed, 
Describe the battle where he fell, 

The spot where he was laid. 



144 RURAL RHYMES. 

And there beneath that lonely tree, 

Which gave the town its name,* 
The traveller will turn to see 

And read a warrior's fame. 
And when that tree shall cease to stand, 

As it must shortly do, 
A monument with marble hand 

Will point to where it grew. 



THE SOLDIER FROM THE KANSAS LINE. 

A soldier from Missouri, 

In manhood's early prime, 
Lay with the dead and dying, 

Far in a Southern clime ; 
On the bloody field of Corinth 

His life was ebbing fast, 
And comrades, faint and bleeding, 

In crowds were hurrying past ; 
He saw his young companions — 
# The friends of happier days — 
Retiring from the conflict, 

Before the cannon's blaze ; 
And borne along, all tattered, 

The starred and barred ensign, 
That flag which he had followed 

From near the Kansas line. 



* The town of " Lone Jack" takes its sirgul.ir name from a lone tree of 
the black-jack species, which stood upon the high r'dge of prairie dividing the 
waters of the Missouri and the Osage, in the immediate vicinity of which was 
built the little village cf Lone Jack. The tree, though dead, was still standing 
at the time of the battle, and ntar it was buried the dead ol both armies. 



THE SOLDIER FROM THE KANSAS LINE. 145 

A comrade stopped beside him 

And raised his drooping head, 
And thus in faltering accents 

The dying soldier said : 
" Farewell, my friend and comrade — 

A long, a long adieu — 
Though you may shortly follow me, 

I'll ne'er return to you ; 
With me the war is over, 

My marching's at an end, 
And now a dying message 

By you I fain would send : 
O, bear it to my kindred, 

Those distant friends of mine, 
For I have friends and kindred 

Near to the Kansas line." 

" I have an aged mother — 
You know that mother well — 

bear to her the tidings 
How I in battle fell, 

And tell her, I remember 

In anguish her advice 
To stay at home in quiet, 

Nor join the chieftain Price ; 
And if I had but heeded 

The good advice she gave, 

1 would not now be hurrying 

Into the yawning grave : 
But I heeded other counsel, 

And left that home of mine — 
A home of peace and quiet 

Near to the Kansas line." 



146 RURAL RHYMES. 

" You know my brothers, also — 

Tell them the mournful tale, 
And when in death I'm sleeping, 

They will my fate bewail ; 
They know I strove, all vainly, 

Secession's tide to stem, 
Till, blinded by a phantom, 

I bade adieu to them; 
They know the things that drew me 

Away from them and home, 
And the phantom light that lured me 

Through Dixie's land to roam, 
And that the heart beat loyal 

Within this breast of mine, 
But it will never beat again 

Upon the Kansas line." 

" Tell to my neighbors, also, 

Who preached secession loud, 
And counseled me and others 

To swell the rebel crowd, 
That though they now are loyal, 

Their lives and goods to save, 
'Twas they who sent me, surely, 

To fill a soldier's grave. 
And though I can forgive them, 

I'd have them not forget 
That, but for them, I might have been 

At home with mother yet, 
And though I lie far distant, 

This mangled form of mine 
May haunt their dreaming slumbers 

Upon the Kansas line." 



THE SOLDIER FROM THE KANSAS LINE. 147 

" And there's a dark-eyed beauty — 

I need not call her name — 
Who swerved me from my duty, 

And fanned the rebel flame ; 
Her words to me : ' Remember, 

' No hand with mine unites, 
' Unless I find it boldly 

' Defending Southern rights.' 
Those Southern rights, alas ! friend, 

I knew not what they were, 
But with you and others followed 

The fleeing, phantom's glare ; 
I sacrificed my judgment 

At beauty's magic shrine, 
And joined the rebel regiment 

Upon the Kansas line." 

" And now, dear friend, remember 

And heed my last request — 
I feel my mind is wandering, 

I soon shall be at rest. 
Now dim prophetic visions 

Before me seem to pass, 
And storms of blood and carnage 

Are gathering, alas ! 
And, 'ere the war is ended — 

So foolishly begun — 
A thousand youths, misguided, 

Will do as I have done ; 
A thousand doting mothers 

Will be bereft like mine, 
And thousand homes be desolate 

Along the Kansas line." 



14S RURAL RHYMES. 

And then, his reason failing, 

The soldier ceased to speak, 
And on that field of battle, 

Where Greek had met the Greek, 
His life was made an offering 

Unto the God of War, 
Whose victims bleed by thousands — 

Alas ! alas ! what for ? 
The land is dark with mourning, 

Draped in the weeds of woe, 
And the wailing notes of sorrow 

Are heard from high and low, 
And many a home is desolate, 

As fire and sword combine 
To make a howling wilderness 

Along the Kansas line. 



THE FADED BANNER; OR, HOPE FORLORN. 

The circumstance which gave rise to this poem was the surprise and massa- 
cre of the citizens of Kingsville, in Johnson County, Missouri, on the 7th of May, 
1S65, by a band of about one hundred guerrillas led by A. Clements, a lieutenant 
of the noted Bill Anderson. The sentiments contained in the poem are taken 
chiefly from Haldwin's oration, delivered on the 3d anniversary of the massacre, 
and published in the Warrensburg Standard about the 12th of May, 186S. The 
poem was also published in the same paper a week or two after. 

I saw a faded banner wave 

Amongst the budding woodland trees, 

'Twas planted near a soldier's grave, 
And floated on the passing breeze. 

" What flag is this," I asked of one — 
"This faded banner, worn and torn?" 

He said : "That flag, through rain and sun, 
" Has often led the Hope-forlorn." 



THE FADED BANNER; OR, HOPE FORLORN 149 

"That Hope-forlorn," I asked again — 
" Now tell me who and what were they ? 

''And does that Hope-forlorn remain, 
" Or has it died and passed away?" 

" A band of true and loyal men, 

" By rebel hands when nigh o'erborne, 

" United for defence, and then 

' ' Those men were styled the Hope-forlorn. 

" A Hope-forlorn they seemed to be, 
" For other hopes had failed and died ; 

" They vowed beneath the flag you see 
" To stand or perish side by side. 

" And well they kept that sacred vow ; 

"They stood together night and morn; 
" They're bound together even now, 

"The members of that Hope-forlorn." 

" Why is it here — that torn ensign — 

" Why waves it o'er these lonely graves?" 

He said: " Here sleep the murdered nine, 
" And o'er their dust this banner waves. 

" Here Duncan, Paul and others sleep, 
' ' Who fell that fatal Sabbath morn ; 

" But Freedom's friends will ever keep 
" In memory green that Hope-forlorn. 

' ' The storm of war had passed away 
"In which they well had borne their part, 

" And peace with its reviving ray 
' ' Was cheering every loyal heart, 

" When rebel bandits, seeking blood, 
"To Kingsville came at early morn, 



150 RURAL RHYMES. 

"And, bursting like a whelming flood, 
" O'erpowered the feeble Hope-forlorn. 

" They waited till the storm had passed, 
' ' Like Booth, to quench their bloody thirst 

"And with him they'll be ever classed — 
" Of murderers the very worst. 

"Three years have come and passed away 
"Since that remembered Sabbath morn, 

" And at their graves we meet to-day 
"To honor that small Hope-forlorn. 

"Upon this consecrated ground, 

"When comes the seventh day of May, 

" Let friends of Freedom gather round, 
"An annual tribute here to pay. 

"That faded flag above their graves — 
"That flag by them thro' danger borne — 

" Shall wave, as now you see it waves, 
"And point us to that Hope-forlorn." 



THE WATCHMAN; OR,. BURDEN OF DUMAH. 

— Isaiah 21:11-12. 

This poem — a kind of prophecy or prediction— was written about the last of 
1864, and published in the Independence Messenger. 

THE QUESTION. 

Watchman, upon the tower, Ho ! 

What of the stormy night ? — 
Say, does the storm-cloud darker grow, 

Or is there cominsr lisrht ? 



THE WATCHMAN; OR, BURDEN OF DUMAH. 15 1 

How long until the day shall break — 

How long until the dawn — 
How long till peace and order wake, 

And strivings be withdrawn ? 

How long ere blood and carnage cease 

To stain a guilty land, 
And till the olive branch of peace 

Shall wave on every hand ? 

This call I hear from Edom's land, 

It comes from out of Seir ; 
'Tis borne on southern breezes bland 

Into the watchman's ear. 

ANSWER. 

The night is coming, dark with gloom, 

O'er that rebellious land, 
And lo ! the impending hour of doom 

Is even now at hand. 

A darker night than Egypt knew 

Awaits secession's clime ; 
A darker and a longer too, 

And soon will come the time. 

The power of that ill-fated land 

Is broken and dispersed, 
And rebel chiefs must kiss the hand 

Of Abraham the first. 

But though the night approaches fast, 

The morn is coming too, 
And when the stormy night has passed 

The sun will shine anew. 



152 RURAL RHYMES. 

A glorious day will yet arise, 
Cheered by the beams of peace, 

And when secession's doctrine dies 
The storm of war will cease. 

And now should you inquire again, 
"What of the stormy night?" 

Ask, and the answer will be plain : 
"There is a gleam of light." 

Return, the watchman calls, return, 
Ere it shall be too late ; 

Return, rebellious ones, return — 
Return each rebel State ! 

To your allegiance return, 

No longer dare rebel. 
And from those bloody lessons learn 

In Union still to dwell. 

Come to the Federal Union — come 
Ere darker grows the day ; 

Come quickly to your ancient home, 
The glorious U. S. A. 



THE CRUEL WAR IS O^ER. 

Written in 1865. 

'Tis done, the bloody strife is o'er, 

The storm of war has passed, 
We hear the marching tramp no more 

Of men in armor massed ; 
The howling storm of war is hushed, 

Its echoes die away ; 
The mighty rebel power is crushed, 

With all its grand display. 



THE CRUEL WAR IS OVER. 

The sunny beams of peace illume 
The land from east to west, 

And where but late was grief and gloom, 
The land in smiles is dressed. 

A mighty nation stands confessed, 
Its power is fully tried ; 

No North, no South, no East, no West- 
It never can divide. 

Now washed away a darksome stain, 

Now free the Ethiop race, 
For those who strove to rivet chains 

Have torn them from their place. 

A land of freedom now indeed, 

For slavery's reign is o'er ; 
The fate of war has now decreed 

That slaves are slaves no more. 

Then let our thanks to heaven ascend, 

And let us grateful be 
To those who did the land defend, 

Who made the nation free. 

But there is many a heavy heart, 
And many a saddened home ; 

And sires who saw their sons depart 
Will never see them come. 

The widow's wail, the orphan's cry, 
And sounds of grief like these — 

The mother's moan, the sister's sigh, 
Are borne upon the breeze. 

And there are thousand unknown graves, 
Where Union soldiers sleep, 



!53 



154 RURAL RHYMES. 

And hundreds lie beneath the waves, 
Down in the watery deep. 

But though they sleep in death, away 
From friends and far from home, 

Fair Freedom will their names display 
Upon her temple's dome. 

And when the circling years have sped- 
And they are speeding fast — 

The mem'ry of the gallant dead 
Will live, and long 'twill last. 

And those who freely gave their blood 

To quench the rebel fires 
Will have a nation's gratitude, 

Till gratitude expires. 



POEMS, DESCRIPTIVE AND SENTI- 
MENTAL. 



THE LONELY TREE. 

'Twas in days long since departed, 
When in youth and lightsome-hearted, 
Ere my plans of life were thwarted, 

First I saw this lonely tree. 
'Twas in autumn, sere and sober, 
'Twas the last of sad October, 
After frost, that great disrober, 

Had embrowned the prairie lea, 
And had scattered many a leaflet 
Round about this lonely tree, 
Then I passed this lonely tree. 

Passing o'er the rolling prairie, 
All was wild and sad and dreary, 
And my feet were worn and weary, 
Traveling far from Tennessee ; 
Autumn's sun was setting bright then, 
Scarce a house or farm in sight then, 
And the cold and frosty night then 

Closed around me chillingly ; 
I upon this desert prairie 

Slept, and woke at morn to see 
Standing here this lonely tree. 

Fate or chance my steps impelling, 
Led me then to fix my dwelling 



156 RURAL RHYMES. 

Whence across the prairie swelling 

I could see this lonely tree. 
On this eminence commanding, 
Fire and flood and storm withstanding, 
It has stood, and yet is standing, 

Where it stood in "thirty-three," 
And for ages prior had served 
As landmark on the prairie lea, 
Standing here a signal tree. 

Here, upon these open ranges, 

It has seen a thousand changes, 

And could tell tell a tale that strange is, 

Could it speak its history. 
Indian warriors by the hundred 
Here have met and here have sundered, 
And curious ones have often wondered 
Where those warriors now may be ; 
They have left those grounds of hunting, 
Gone toward the western sea — 
Far from this now lonely tree. 

Changes still have been occurring — 
Busy mortals have been stirring 
Since the time to which referring, 

First I passed in " thirty-three." 
Rolling tides of emigration 
Came from many a land and nation, 
Fixing here their home and station. 
Round about this lonely tree ; 
And a town, or village, rising 
Near the spot, as all may see, 
Bore the name of this lone tree.* 

* Lone Jack. 



THE LONELY TREE. 157 

Toiling men and enterprising, 
Danger and fatigue despising, 
Came and soon were realizing 
Comfort in a great degree ; 
Care and toil the world behooving, 
Energetic men were moving, 
And the land was fast improving 
All around this lonely tree ; 

Farms were spreading east and west, 

Farther than the eye could see — 

Still it stood a lonely tree. 

Other changes came quite sadly, 
War had scourged the nation badly, 
And contending armies madly 

Met and fought at this lone tree.* 
'Neath it now the slain are sleeping, 
Silent watches round it keeping, 
And their distant friends are weeping 
For the slain at this lone tree. 

Friends and foes together sleeping — 

Peaceful may their slumbers be, 

Resting 'neath this lonely tree. 

Sad the lesson we've been learning : 
Farms and houses round us burning, 
Exiles far away sojourning, 

Friends we never more shall see ; 
Bitter fruits of fell secession 
Followed fast in quick succession ; 
Fire and sword and war's oppression 

Left their footprints plain to see ; 
Not a single person dwelling 



* August 16th, 1862. 



158 RURAL RHYMES. 

In the village near the tree — 
Lonely now, this lonely tree. 

Once again in autumn sober, 
Passed I here, in sad October ; 
Death, that great and last disrober, 
Had disrobed this lonely tree : 
It was dead and fast decaying, 
Branches pendantly were swaying 
In the breezes, sadly saying, 

"Man has fallen, so must we — 
He has left the country wasting, 
Not a human face we see — " 
Lonelier this lonely tree. 

Lonely tree ! the worms did gnaw it, 
Passing ravens seemed to caw it, 
Lonelier than when you saw it 

First, in eighteen thirty-three. 
True, indeed, 'twas lonely — very — 
And the village, once so merry, 
Then was lying solitary; 

Burned, abandoned, sad to me ; 
Where the shops and stores had stood there 

Naught was left but vacancy. 

Banished by the military,* 
Dwellers none were on the prairie, 
All was desolate and dreary, 

In October, "sixty-three;" 
Farms were lying waste, or wasting, 
Bitter fruits of war all tasting, 
And the land to ruin hasting, 

Mourned for man's perversity ; 

* By "Order No. Eleven." 



THE LONELY TREE. 159 

Out of all that population, 
Once so. happy, once so free, 
None were near this lonely tree. 

Once again complaining pronely, 
Busied in my rhyming only, 
I am by the tree, so lonely,* 

Which I passed in "thirty-three." 
Oft, with many a care encumbered, 
One and thirty years I've numbered 
Since the time I slept and slumbered 
On the prairie near the tree — 

O, the many, many changes 

That have passed o'er it and me ! 

I am lonely like the tree. 

Now its trunk is standing only, 
Where it long has stood so lonely, 
And its branches, scattered pronely, 

Lie around the parent tree. 
I have branches, too, that's left me — 
Death has often times bereft me — 
Soon the tide of time will drift me 
Over life's tempestuous sea ; 

Then, with wife and children resting, 

Let me lie near this lone tree. 

They are sleeeping near this tree. 



January, 1S65 . 



l6o RURAL RHYMES. 



THE PRISONER* 

Another weary day has passed, 
Gone down another sun — 

My days, my hopes are sinking fast, 
They vanish one by one. 

'Tis said that hope long time deferred 
Makes sick the human heart, 

And long I've waited for the word 
That bids me hence depart. 

But still I wait and hope in vain, 
That word comes not to me ; 

A prisoner I here remain — 
O, when shall I be free ? 

They tell me I am homesick now — 

'Tis true I pine for home, 
And were I there again I trow 

I never more would roam. 

I've pined for many a weary day 

Within this prison camp, 
But still my thoughts are far away, 

Forever on the tramp. 

They come and go without control, 
They will not be confined — 

The cravings of a deathless soul, 
The pinions of the mind. 



* Referring to a youthful friend who died in prison at Fort Douglass, 
1S64. 



THE PRISONER. l6l 

I think of home and friends by day, 
And dream of them by night ; 

! how I long to haste away, 
And with those friends unite ? 

My kindred near ! my kindred dear ! 

O ! how I long to be 
Released from my confinement here, 

Those dear loved ones to see. 

And that dear father, too — shall I 

E'er see that face again, 
And tell him how it was and why 

I caused him grief and pain ? 

1 fain would tell him how I came 
The Southern ranks to join, 

And how a prisoner I became 
Within the Union line. 

He knows that I was loyal when 

I left my home and him — 
A friend unto my country then, 

Whose flag I ne'er would dim. 

But when the rebels raiding came, 

Conscripting right or wrong, 
(Perhaps I was myself to blame 1 , 

They carried me along. 

And now a pris'ner here confined 

For many weeks I've been, 
And during those long weeks I've pined 

A guarded camp within. 



I 62 RURAL RHYMES. 

In dreams, I often pass the gate, 

My freedom oft regain, 
And hurry back to friends, who wait 

To welcome me again. 

My brothers and my sisters too, 
In dreams are oft with me, 

And that dear home my boyhood knew, 
In dreams I often see. 

But short the joy those dreams impart, 

I wake to realize 
That they are dreams, and sick at heart 

I vent my waking sighs. 

Long time I may not tarry here ; 

I feel that I, ere long, 
Shall cease to hope, shall cease to fear, 

To do or suffer wrong. 

That earthly home recedes from me, 
The land that gave me birth, 

But I by faith can sometimes see 
A brighter home than earth. 

Last night my sainted mother came, 

My sorrows all beguiled — 
Her smile on me was just the same 

As when I was a child. 

She pointed to a region fair — 

To realms far, far away — 
And said, " No pris'ners languish there, 
. "And youth shall ne'er decay." 



SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD. 1 6; 

She pointed to a gate which led 

From out my prison's gloom, 
She pointed to a path and said : 

" That leads you to your home. 

" It is the road your mother trod 

" When you were but a boy, 
" It led her to the throne of God, 

" To realms of endless joy. 

"Farewell, my son, a short farewell — 

" I may not tarry here ; 
" Soon shall you come to me, and dwell 

" In yon celestial sphere." 

And now I go — vain world, adieu ! 

No longer here I'll dwell; 
My father, brothers, sisters, too, 

Farewell, farewell, farewell ! 



SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD. 

Written upon visiting the home of my childhood, after an absence of eight 
and thirty years. 

Long years had elapsed, and I had grown old, 

Since leaving the land of my birth, 
When again I returned once more to behold 

That dearest loved spot upon earth ; 
The dear cherished home, where my lot had been cast, 

And my eyes opened first on the day ; 
Where the days of my earliest childhood were passed, 

And my years glided smoothly away. 



164 RURAL RHYMES. 

In the morning of life, in my boyhood's day, 

I had left it and wandered afar ; 
And then, when my hair was silvered and gray, 

I returned on the steam-going car. 
I came to the home of my childhood alone : — 

'Twas changed, but it still was the same — 
I stood on its threshold a stranger unknown, 

None knew me or called me by name. 

In the house which my father had builded I stood, 

And my thoughts traveled backward again 
To the days of my youth, to my sunny childhood, 

And my pleasure was mingled with pain. 
No father, no mother, to greet me I found — 

No brother or sister in view ; 
Long time had that father lain low in the ground, 

And my brothers were lying there too. 

My thoughts, by fond memory, backward were drawn, 

And they whispered this truth to my heart : 
"Companions and playmates of youth are all gone, 

" And alone, all alone now, thou art." 
'Twas sad and yet pleasing at once to review 

Those scenes, to my memory dear ; 
To visit each spot which my infancy knew 

Ere my life had been burdened with care. 

The house and surroundings were part of that scene — 

The old-fashioned chimney yet stands — 
And I thought of the time, when a youth of sixteen, 

I moulded each brick with these hands. 
Forty years have gone by, and firm and still hard 

The bricks in that chimney I see ; 
But of those who then toiled in that dusty brickyard 

Not one is now living but me. 



SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD. 1 65 

To the place of the orchard of apples I came, 

And I sought for one apple tree, fair — 
My favorite tree, and called by my name — 

But alas ! not a vestige was there. 
The trees which my father had planted were gone, 

Perhaps they had died long ago, 
But others, and larger ones, grew further on, 

Where the spring and the rivulets flow. 

I came to the spring, and still as of old 

It flowed with murmuring rill, 
And I bowed me to drink of that fountain so cold, 

As it came from out of the hill. 
An'd the time and the season came back to my mind 

When my flutter wheel danced in the stream, 
And the many times since, when in slumbers confined, 

I've returned to that spot in my dream. 

To the site of the school-house I then did repair, 

Where it stood on the rocky hill's brow ; 
I sought it in vain, I found it not there, 

But a barn is standing there now. 
The walnut tree, too, I remembered so well, 

Which threw on the play-ground its shade, 
Was, gone, but an oak is there standing to tell 

V\ here the children of long ago played. 

In fancy the days of my youth did return, 

I saw my loved playmates again ; 
But reality came with a countenance stern 

And told me such fancies were vain. 
I never shall see them again, as of yore, 

In those streamlets they'll never more lave; 
All parted and scattered the western land o'er, 

And many lie low in the grave. 



1 66 RURAL RHYMES. 

Ah ! sad and yet pleasing it is to come back, 

When our heads are all silvered with grey; 
To tread once again the old beaten track 

We trod in our childhood's bright day ; 
To meet with kind friends who remember our names 

Though our faces have changed to their view, 
And to kindle again the expiring flames 

Of friendship devoted and true. 

Not wholly alone I found myself there, 

Some few of my kindred remain ; 
Some schoolmates and friends, whose welcomings were 

A solace for much of my pain. 
Although so much changed that they knew not my face,. 

They remembered me well as of yore, 
Could speak of the time and could tell me the place 

Where last they had seen me before. 

And now back at home, my far western home, 

My thoughts will revert to those scenes, 
And, waking, or sleeping, my fancy will roam 

Away back to the years of my teens ; 
And to those of my friends and acquaintances too, 

Who gave me a welcome so kind — 
And whether my days shall be many or few, 

To the end I will bear them in mind. 



FORTY YEARS AGO NOW AND THEN. 167 

FORTY YEARS AGO— NOW AND THEN; 

Or, the Old Man's Return to the Home of His Youth. 

Written to William Sharp, an old school-mate, after the visit mentioned in 
the last poem . 

Fain would I write to you, dear friend, 

A letter frank and free — 
I've lately been to our old home, 

Away in Tennessee. 
I've been to the old place, dear Bill, 

Where we in childhood dwelt, 
But oh ! I cannot tell you all 

Of what I saw and felt. 

I walked the valley up and down, 

I crossed the ridges o'er, 
And stood where we so oft have stood 

Upon the river's shore. 
Oh ! great have been the changes there, 

Some spots I scarce could know, 
While others seemed almost the same 

As forty years ago. 

I came to where your father dwelt 

When we were boys, dear Bill; 
To where the old log house then stood, 

Upon the sloping hill. 
That old log house has gone long since, 

I know not when or how ; 
But down below the spring there stands 

A large brick mansion now. 

They say your brother built it there, 
But he has moved away, 



l68 RURAL RHYMES. 

And those you never saw, dear friend, 

Are living there to-day. 
The trees that shaded that old house 

I saw had fallen too, 
And scarce an apple tree was left 

Where once the orchard grew. 

A little further down the stream, 

And near the public road, 
The place you well remember yet, 

Where I'm youth abode, 
The old log house was standing, where 

My father built it, still ; 
Your sister now is living there, 

Your sister Mary Hill. 

I stood in that old house again, 

As oft before I'd done, 
But there were none to greet me there 

Of kindred — no not one. 
And those who knew me when a boy 

I played barefooted there, 
All failed to recognize the man, 

So old, with silver hair. 

Time in its flight had changed the place- 

I too had changed, dear Bill — 
But many a spot to memory dear 

I found remaining still. 
The spring was flowing from the hill 

As in the days of yore, 
But trees were growing round it then 

I ne'er had seen before. 



FORTY YEARS AGO — NOW AND THEN. 1 69 

The old brick chimney stands there yet, 

Two stories high, you know ; 
Its every brick I moulded, Bill, 

Full forty years ago. 
But of the many men and boys — 

Those boys with sunny brow — 
Who toiled with me in making them, 

Not one is living now : 

They all are dead and in their graves, 

One after one they died ; 
Far, far apart some of them sleep, 

And some lie side by side ; 
Two thousand miles and more away 

Some sleep in graves unknown. 
While I, with locks now thin and grey, 

Am left alone — alone ! 

Across the streamlets, on the hill 

Between our homes, you know, 
The little school house stood, dear Bill, 

A good long while ago. 
'Twas there, when little boys at school, 

We learned our ABC, 
And studied Webster's old blue book — 

Few other books had we. 

Beside the rough-hewn writing bench, 

How often, side by side, 
We sat and made our pot-hooks there, 

And read "John Gilpin's Ride." * 



* Cowper's poem of John Gilpin, as found n the old school book, " Scott's 
Lessons." 



17° RURAL RHYMES. 

But after "twice ten tedious years," 

And double that had fled, 
Far faster, far, than Gilpin rode, 

Back to that spot I sped ; 

And there I stood alone, dear Bill, 

Upon the old play-ground ; 
Not one of all our playmates dear 

Upon that spot was found. 
I saw them not beside the brook, 

Nor on the cedar glade, 
But some of their grand-children small 

Were playing where we played. 

And thus it was — place after place 

I visited, and found 
That time had changed each cherished spot 

Of memory's hallowed ground, 
I came to where my grand sire dwelt 

In days and years long gone, 
Hard by the old mill stream, you know, 

Which still was flowing on. 

The mill was standing where it did — 

The sound of grinding low 
Fell on my listening ears again, 

As forty years ago. 
The old house, too, my grand sire built, 

In days ere I was born, 
Was standing as it stood of yore, 

But looking more forlorn. 

How oft I've met my cousins dear 
At grandma's house to play — 



FORTY YEARS AGO NOW AND THEN. I 7 1 

How often, in the orchard there, 

We passed our holiday ! 
But now those orchard trees are gone, 

The old catalpas, too,* 
And gone are all the pleasant shades 

Their leafy branches threw. 

I trod the gravel yard again, 

I viewed the landscape o'er, 
And many an object then I saw 

That I had seen before. 
Upon the weather-beaten wall, 

Though now somewhat decayed, 
I saw the many, many marks 

Our arrow-spikes had made. 

Oh ! these were sad mementoes, Bill, 

Of long departed joys — 
'Twas sad to think how few are left 

Of those light-hearted boys : 
To think that they, those few, like me 

Are now grey-headed men — 
To think of all the ups and downs 

That we have seen since then. 

The old log meeting house you know, 

Built in the woodland wild, 
Where first I heard the gospel preached, 

When I was but a child. 
I came to that old church again, 

And worshippers were there — 
Not those we used to see there, Bill, 

But faces strange they were. 



* The shade t rei_s in the yard. 



I7 2 RURAL RHYMES. 

I heard the voice of prayer and praise, 

To God the great Triune ; 
I hear them sing the same old song, 

And in the same old tune; 
You may have sang that tune dear Bill — 

The song you've heard I know — 
"I am a stranger'' so it ran, 

"A stranger here below." 

And as they sang, I felt indeed 

The force of that sad word. 
A stranger in my native place, 

Where first that hymn I heard ; 
And as I listened to the song, 

(My eyes were dimned I know) 
1 thought I saw the friends of old, 

Who sang it long ago. 

But that was all illusion Bill — 

I walked the grave yard through, 
And there they were, those friends of old, 

But hidden from my view. 
That grave yard, Bill, is larger now, 

Than when you saw it last — 
Alas those cities of the dead, 

Are populating fast. 

There side by side my kindred lie — 

Your kindred lie there too — 
I saw your fathers grave, dear Bill, 

And well that grave I knew. 
The plain head-stone is standing yet — 

A limestone large you know — 
I saw it placed above that grave, 

O'er forty years ago. 



FORTY YEARS AGO NOW AND THEN. I 7 3, 

Another well remembered spot. 

I visited, dear Bill. 
Twas where, my aunt Tabitha dwelt 

Hard by the rippling rill, 
Where I and her dear children oft 

Have sported through the day, 
And with our game of fox and goose 

Passed hours of night away. 

Ah well do I remember Bill, 

Those boys and girls of yore — 
Perhaps you too remember them, 

Though some are now no more— 
Oh yes, for now I think of it, 

Full well, my friend, I know 
You married one of those dear girls 

Near forty years ago. 

Now tell my cousin Betsy, Bill, 

(Your wife I might have said) 
That late, I passed those play grounds o'er 

Where we together played, 
Her father, and her mother too, 

I learned had long been dead ; 
But one dear brother still resides 

Upon the old homestead. 

That mansion house is standing yet, 

The old log kitchen too ; 
The smoke house stands just as it did. 

The orchard where it grew. 
The stables, too, across the road, 

Upon the level plat — 
No place I saw had undergone 

So little change as that. 



74 RURAL RHYMES. 

I slept in that old house again, 

Within that little room, 
Where you, (if I remember well) 

Slept when a gay bridegroom : 
And as I lay reflecting there, 

I heard the light foot fall 
Of Time, as measured by the clock, 

Which ticked against the wall. 

The same old Eli Terry clock, 

That wooden clock you know, 
The one my uncle George first bought, 

A long, long while ago. 
And as it measured steps I heard, 

They seem to speak or chime ; 
" For fifty years or nearly so 

" I've told the flight of time." 

How lightly fall the steps of time , 

And yet what changes great, 
They've made since you and I, dear Bill, 

First left our native State. 
And should you ever go back there, 

To the old place again ; 
You'll find, dear friend, a contrast great 

Between the now and then. 



THE OLD FASHIONED PREACHER. 1 75 

THE OLD FASHIONED PREACHER. 

Written to accompany a reminiscence of Elder Jacob Powell published in 
Repository, April, 1875. 

How often it is, as in church I am sitting, 

My mind wanders back to the days of my youth ; 
And faces and forms before me are flitting, 

Of those who then preached the plain gospel of truth. 
In fancy I see the good pious old teacher, 

Who urged me the way of salvation to know, 
The plain honest face of the pioneer preacher. 

Who preached on the border a long time ago ; 
The plain simple preacher, the good honest preacher, 

The old fashioned preacher of long time ago. 

That old fashioned preacher, I'll never forget him, 

But will ever remember his kindness to me — 
Full well I remember, the first time I met him, 

When I was a boy in East Tennessee. 
But now I am old, many years have passed o'er me. 

And he is a sleep on a far distant shore, 
But often in fancy, I see him before me, 

As I saw him in youth, in the good days of yore, 
The same honest preacher, the same fearless preacher, 

The old fashioned preacher who preaches no more. 

How often I think of his true self denial, 

And often contrast him with men of to-day ; 
Through heat and through cold, though great was the trial, 

He toiled in the vineyard — not asking for pay — 
The widow, the orphan, the poor and the needy, 

In sickness and sorrow, had reason to know, 
In all their afflictions that none were so speedy, 

Relief and assistance on them to bestow ; 
As the plain earnest preacher, the good Baptist preacher, 

The old fashioned preacher of long time ago. 



176 RURAL RHYMES. 

But few of those old fashioned preachers yet linger, 

But few now remain, and those few are ignored 
For men of more learning, and scorn with her finger 

Oft points at the men who so much have endured. 
More talented men are the bread of life breaking, 

And their words of instruction more fluently flow : 
But are they more useful or more sin-forsaking, 

Than the ignorant preacher of long time ago ? 
The plain humble preacher, the well meaning preacher, 

The old fashioned preacher, of long time ago. 

When now on the Sabbath, the old church I visit, 

Where his plain admonitions no longer I hear — 
'Tis strange, very strange, can you tell me why is it, 

His words to my mind will so often occur. 
While eloquent men, in language quite burning, 

Are preaching the gospel of peace and of truth, 
My mind is so vagrant it still will be turning 

To the old fashioned preacher, I heard in my youth : 
The plain gospel preacher, the pioneer preacher, 

The old fashioned preacher, I heard in my youth. 

'Tis said that the age and the world are progressing, 

That old fashioned preachers are needed no more ; 
That men of more learning, more knowledge possessing, 

Must now take the places of those gone before. 
Ah well, with the world I must not be contending — 

Perhaps it is so, but there' one thing I know, 
While the greatest D. Ds. are their tenets defending 

I think of the preacher of long time ago : 
That ignorant preacher, the plain simple preacher, 

The old fashioned preacher of long, long ago. 



THE OLD CABIN HOME. 1 77 

THE OLD CABIN HOME. 

Written in 1874 and published in the Independence Sentinel. 

I passed an old cabin of logs tc-day, 

Weather-beaten and worn and decayed ; 
And it spoke to my mind of friends far away, 

And of loved ones by death lowly laid. 
That cabin was built in a wildnerness here — 

'Twas the verge of the settlement then — 
'Twas built long ago by an old pioneer, 

Who came in the van of white men ; 
It stood by the side of the Shawnee trail* 

A trail by the Indians made. 
As they moved to the west from their old home place,. 

Where the bones of their fathers were laid. 
That old pioneer, has gone long ago — 

Long since he was laid to his rest, 
And all his descendants so far as I know, 

Have gone to a still farther West. 

I passed the old cabin, and sadly I mused — 

I wept and the tears fell fast — 
Though now for a stable, the cabin is used, 

'Twas my home in the years long passed. 
It spoke of life's joys, its sorrows and strife,. 

And a morning in spring time fair, 
When first setting out on the journey of life, 

That Mary and I came there. 

That old cabin home has sheltered us oft, 

From the rains and the wintry blast, 
'Neath its clapboard roof and clapboard loft, 

Many halcyon days I've passed. 



* This trace or trail was made before the country was settled by white men 
and made by the Shawnee and Delaware Indians, as they removed from the 
Mississippi to their location above the mouth of the Kansas river. 



178 RURAL RHYMES. 

Ah ! dear to my heart is that old cabin yet, 
And the field where I followed the plow — 

That farm and that cabin I cannot forget, 
Though another possesses them now. 

That old time roof has been gone long, long, 

And gone is the old puncheon floor ; 
And the wheel, and the loom, and Mary's sweet song 

Is heard in that cabin no more. 
'Tis seldom I see the old cabin of late, 

But my thoughts to it often revert, 
And if in my eyes the tears congregate, 

I feel that they do me no hurt. 

'Twas there, that my sons and daughters were born, 

And there it was some of them died ; 
Those blossoms of hope, were cut down in the morn ; 

And Mary now lies by their side. 
'Twas an humble abode, that cabin I know, 

But I never again shall enjoy 
Another on earth, where the sweets of life flow 

With so little of bitter alloy. 

And now in the cold eventide of my days, 

As the shadows are lengthening fast, 
I look from out of a dark'ning maze, 

To the sunshine of days that are past. 
From out of that cabin's old timbers I fain, 

Would carve me a staff firm and strong, 
On which I can lean, as in weakness and pain, 

On life's journey I totter along. 

I am wayworn and weary, I soon shall go hence, 
And see my old home cabin no more ; 



THE EARLY SETTLERS. 1 79 

But when I have quitted this world of offence, 

A home shall I find evermore. 
Ah yes, there's a mansion prepared bright and fair 

For all who the race have well run. 
And Mary, dear Mary, awaits for me there, 

As of old, till my days work is done. 

I'm coming dear Mary, I'll be at home soon, 

The time of reunion draws nigh ; 
The morning has past, it is long since noon, 

And the sun has sank low in the sky ; 
I'm leaving the scene of our labors and love — 

The old home I may never more see, 
But by faith I can see the fair mansion above, 

And a light in the window for me. 



THE EARL Y SETTLERS. 

The early settlers where are they, 

They are falling one by one ; 
A few more years may pass away, 

And leave but few or none. 
My memory often hurries me 

Back o'er a lapse of years, 
And in my dreams I sometimes see 

Those hardy pioneers. 

But they are gone, those sturdy men 

And few are left to tell 
The hardships they encountered when 

They first came here to dwell. 



RURAL RHYMES. 

A few grey headed ones still link 

The present to the past. 
And sad it is for me to think 

That I'm almost the last. 
Now, in my wanderings to and fro y 

Through prairie, field and wood, 
I pass the spot where long ago 

There rude log cabin stood ; 
I see them not as once they were — 

Scarce one of them remains — 
Perhaps a stable, here and there, 

Bleached by a thousand rains. 
Quite rude those habitations were, 

And "few and far between" 
Some stood upon the prairies fair, 

And some in groves of green, 
But now a mound of stone and earth 

The site of homes bereft, 
Tells where was once the blazing hearth. 

And that is all that's left. 
Those early settlers, where are they, 

I miss them more and more ; 
Each year, when it has passed away, 

Leaves fewer than before. 

Like leaves of autumn, from the trees, 

They're falling one by one. 
And soon will death's cold wintry breeze 

Remove the last, last one. 

When I to church now sometimes go, 
Their seats are vacant there : 

I miss them, they are gone I know, 
But where — Oh tell me where ? 



THE EARLY SETTLERS. 

Some in the East, some in the West, 

Are buffeting life's waves ; 
But far the greatest number rest 

Low in the silent grave. 
And when I meet one of the few, 

Who still are lingering here, 
Like brother or like sister true, 

Seems that old pioneer. 
The past, the buried past returns, 

We live it o'er again, 
In speaking of the world's concerns, 

So different now from then. 
Ye settlers of the western wild 

Though few may here remain, 
Ye have not labored, here and toiled 

And spent your lives in vain ; 
Another race of men may fill 

The places you have filled, 
And other hands those fields may till, 
Which yours have cleared and tilled ; 

But when ye all have passed away — 

The last old settler gone — 
Your deeds will yet survive, for they 

In living lines are drawn. 
Those lines which you have written fair, 

Can never be effaced; 
You leave the country smiling where, 

You found it wild and waste. 



I 82 RURAL RHYMES. 

THE CONTRAST. 

Written after attending the Farmers' or Grangers' pic-nic at Lone Jack, on 
the nth. Anniversary of the battle at that place August 16, 1862. 

In eighteen hundred sixty-two — 

Amid confusions rattle — 
I came to where the gray and blue, 

Had lately met in battle ; 
And there beside a lonely tree, 

Upon the rolling prairie 
The dead were laid promiscuously ; 

The wounded faint and weary, 

I came again and stood upon 

The ground where they contended — 
Eleven years had come and gone, 

Those years of strife had ended : 
And then I saw a different scene, 

A scene by far more pleasant, 
A thousand men upon the green, 

A thousand ladies present. 

Where just eleven years before, 

The storm of war tempestive, 
Had swept the little village o'er, . 

All now was gay and festive ; 
The music floated on the air, 

Like water o'er the pebbles ; 
The men who wore the blue were there, 

And those who fought with rebels. 

The sun upon that August day, 

Looked down from Heaven smiling, 

To see the blue, to see the gray, 
The happy hours beguiling ; 



THE CONTRAST. 1 83 

For hand in hand, I saw them go 

To eat the basket dinner, 
For which I thanked the Lord; although, 
Unworthy, and a sinner. 

But though the storm of war had passed — 

Its thunder roared no longer — 
Another storm was gathering fast, 

The breeze was blowing stronger. 
I saw within that festive crowd, 

Full many a hardy yeoman, 
With independent thought endowed, 

And stern as any Roman. 

'Twas then I saw the husbandmen — 

(The sons of toil and labor — 
Whose motto is " Do justice when 

" You deal with friend and neighbor") 
Contending 'gainst the giant wrong, 

As with a sling and pebbles, 
The union soldiers marched along, 

Beside secession rebels. 

Not braver than those farmers bold, 

The heroes of Thormopylae — 
While loud and deep the murmur rolled, 

" Down, down with all monopoly ; 
" We've put our hands unto the plow — 

" We do not mean disruption — 
" But pause and stand from under, now 

" Ye minions of corruption. 

They come, they come, they're filing by — 
The army of the grangers, 



184 RURAL RHYMES. 

While scheming politicians cry 
" These men our craft endanger." 

I saw them marshalling their ranks, 
More numerous than the pebbles ; 

Within them stood the loyal yanks, 
And there were royal rebels. 

And as they moved with measured tread, 

Their step was firm and steady, 
A mighty conflict just ahead, 

But not a conflict bloody. 
Unlike the one, that dyed the ground 

Around the tree so lonely, 
Eleven years before, I found 

That this was peaceful only. 

Instead of cries of agony 

From soldiers sorely wounded, 
The sound of mirth and revelry 

On every side abounded. 
And where the feds and rebs erewhile 

Had met and fought as strangers, 
They met in quite another style 

As friends and brother grangers. 



ADDRESS TO THE GRANGERS. 

Written for the occasion, and read before the Lone Jack Grange at the 
Annual Festival, Dec. 4th, 1873. 

When Patrons of Husbandry meet and unite 

To consult and to work for the good of the Grange, 

Fain would I be there, and contribute my mite, 
And socially join in the thoughts interchange ; 



ADDRESS TO THE GRANGERS. 1S5 

To speak of the comforts of home, and to plan 
Attractions that lend an additional charm ; 

For nothing will bring more comfort to man 

Than a well ordered home on a well ordered farm. 

The minions of wealth, who in luxury roll, 

Disdainfully look on the husbandman's toil, 
But the wealth which the nabobs amass and control, 

By the hand of the farmer is dug from the soil ; 
By his hand and his labor Earth's millions are fed, 

And how would Earth's millions grow pale with alarm, 
If the husbandman, ever, should cease to make bread, 

And the other good things that are grown on the farm. 

If there is a class possessed of more worth 

Than all other classes of men when combined, 
'Tis the class of producers, who bring from the earth 

The treasures of wealth that are therein confined; 
And if there's a man independent and free, 

Depending alone on the Almighty arm — 
The arm of Jehovah who made him — 'tis he 

Who enjoys the comforts of life on a farm. 

Where, where, is that man on a farm who was reared — 

In the North or the South it matters not where — 
Though t' other pursuits his life is now squared, 

Who in thought is not oftentimes carried back there. 
Though in other pursuits, for a time, he engage, 

And success, for a time, may lend them a charm, 
He'll never forget, though he live to old age, 

The pleasures he saw in his youth on a farm. 

Although by the farmer the world has been fed, 
Upheld and supported for six thousand years, 



1 86 RURAL RHYMES. 

He's opposed by a class with a stealthy-like tread, 
And cruelly swindled by base financiers — 

That great moneyed power which companies wield 
For their profit, alone, and the husbandman's harm, 

Possesses itself of the fruits of his field, 

And afterwards pockets the whole of his farm. 

Monopolies here, and monopolies there, 

They're growing and spreading on every hand — 
Ye sons and ye daughters of labor prepare 

That great monied power, at once, to withstand. 
Stand firmly together, your forces unite, 

And shoulder to shoulder, and arm within arm, 
Press onward and forward — contend for the right 

To live and enjoy the fruit of the farm. 

Beware of corruption, of traitors beware — 

Be vigilant, watchful, and on the alert; 
Our foes are awake and abroad everywhere, 

They strike in the dark and the farmer is hurt. 
Too long have we bowed to the sly, subtle power, 

Too long have been led by its siren-like charm — 
Let them look for the day, let them wait for the hour, 

When the yeomanry comes in its strength from the farm. 

Corruption and bribery have entered the hall 

Where State Legislators and Congressmen meet, 
And sad is the sight, when our law-makers fall 

And worship the gold that is laid at their feet ; 
Their trust is betrayed, and our interests are sold, 

They feeling but little of dread or alarm, 
But the days of their power are numbered and told — 

They'll never be trusted again on the farm. 



LETTER TO AN EDITOR. 1 87 

The sly politician who sells us for once, 

(Though little compunction of conscience he feels,) 
Will find that the farmer is not such a dunce 

As not to remember back salary steals ; 
And he who has voted to double our tax, 

And put shackles of debt upon every arm, 
And make us pay gold, in the place of greenbacks, 

Need never claim kin with the sons of the farm. 

And now, brother farmers, let's firmly unite — 

In wrangling together too long have we dwelt — 
If united as one, we contend for the right, 

We'll soon be a power on earth that is felt. 
Already monopolies, far away, see 

This rising of farmers and feel the alarm, 
That when from their meshes the farmer gets free, 

They'll no longer swindle him out of his farm. 



LETTER TO AN EDITOR. 

Written to the Editor of the Knoxville (Tenn.) Chronicle, in 1875. 

Whene'er your paper comes to hand, 
Its columns eagerly are scanned ; 
I look it o'er and o'er to see 
Those notes about East Tennessee. 
Oh, Tennessee! East Tennessee! 
The dearest spot on earth to me, 
(With gushing springs and gliding rills,) 
Is hid amongst those verdant hills. 

Twas there, in days long passed away, 
My eyes first opened on the day; 



1 88 RURAL RHYMES. 

'Twas there my happiest years were passed — 

Alas ! too happy long to last. 

And now, since years have come and gone, 

Here, in a distant land alone, 

By Fancy's eyes I often see 

Those misty hills of Tennessee. 

'Twas in life's morning, bright and fair, 
I left the little streamlet there, 
And, with ambitious views possessed, 
My steps were bent toward the West. 
Since then what changes have I seen, 
In youth and age and all between : 
A checkered scene of toil and care, 
With transient pleasures here and there : 

But still in every lane of life, 
In joy and sorrow, peace and strife 
My thoughts would turn, and turning go 
. Back to the scenes of long ago ; 
Back to the little streamlet where 
The minnows played when I was there — 
Those pebbly streams I seem to see, 
Amongst the hills of Tennessee. 

And when your paper I peruse, 
'Tis not so much for general news, 
As 'tis that I, perchance, may trace 
The name of some familiar place 
Connected with the olden time, 
'Ere I had left that genial clime ; 
Or else that I may there behold 
The name of some dear friend of old ; 



LETTER TO AN EDITOR. 1 89 

A k\v old friends still there remain — 
Some friends I ne'er may see again — 
But they, perhaps, remember not 
My name, nor e'er bestow a thought 
On me, or on those days of yore, 
Those days which can return no more, 
But though they may not think of me, 
I think of them and Tennessee. 

Toward that dear spot my heart has yearned, 

But only once have I returned — 

Once, only once, since thirty-three, 

Have I been there that spot to see. 

When eight and thirty years had passed, 

And age was creeping o'er me fast, 

I came to that old place again, 

But found a change in things and men. 

'Tis not my purpose, now, to trace 
My wanderings from place to place, 
Nor will I speak of the contrast 
Between the present and the past; 
Those matters I shall not rehearse, 
I've written them in other verse,* 
From which, if you will read, you'll see 
I'm wedded yet to Tennessee. 

But when I came to Knoxville, where 
Your paper's published, I declare, 
When our conductor called the name, 
I scarce could think it was the same, 
So many changes there I found, 



" Forty years ago." 



l 9° RURAL RHYMES. 

And everything seemed turned around — 
The streets of Cumberland and Gay 
Seemed running the contrary way. 

And then the town had grown up so— 
The railroad, too, and its depot, 
Had all been built since I was there, 
Which made the city look so queer, 
That if I saw a single spot 
I e'er had seen, I knew it not; 
Within a crowd I seemed alone, 
Unknowing all and all unknown. 

That town which first in life I'd seen, 
Had still been kept in memory green ; 
In memory's eye the same it seemed, 
And oftentimes, in sleep, I dreamed 
That I was there a boy again, 
With heart as light as it was when 
I first came there, o'er hill and dale, 
With forty pounds of rags for sale. 

But when I sought to find the place 
Where then I sold them, not a trace 
Of that store-house, with painted sign, 
Where Roberts sold in twenty-nine, 
Could I perceive in seventy-one — 
'Twas gone the sign, " Roberts & Sons," 
But old men in the neighborhood 
May tell you where that store-house stood. 

Those old men, too, remember yet 
Some things that I cannot forget : 
Election day was drawing nigh, 
And Jackson was the battle-cry; 



LETTER TO AN EDITOR. 19I 

Tom Arnold bold and Pryor Lea 
Were candidates and wished to be 
Elected into Congress, then, 
And both were noisy talking men, 
So such a war of words was heard 
As ne'er before the pool had stirred. • 

They both were willing, anxious too. 

To serve a Congress-term or two, 

And serve for eighty dimes a day, 

Without the back or extra pay ; 

But times have changed, they have, indeed — 

The more we get the more we need — 

But now I'm getting off the track, 

I'll check myself and hurry back. 

'Twas there in thirty-one, I guess, 
That first I saw a printing press, 
And strong the impulse seized me then 
To be one of the printer men ; 
And one, perhaps, I might have been, 
But Heiskell would not take me in — 
For Heiskell was a printer, sir, 
And edited the Register. 

Perhaps, for me, 'twas for the best — 
We're oft by disappointment blessed — 
Had I succeeded in my plan, 
I might have been a congressman ; 
Perhaps I might have been returned 
Unto the Congress just adjourned, 
And seeing what they have to bear, 
I'm glad, indeed, I was not there. 



I92 RURAL RHYMES. 

And now, dear editor so kind, 
I hope these items I shall find 
Within your paper, more and more, 
And as I read its columns o'er, 
They'll carry me in fancy back 
To tread the old, familiar track, 
Across the hill, across the vale, 
Across the streams which never fail, 
And there to tread the forest through, 
Where chinquepins and chestnuts grew, 
And where my voice in boyhood rang, 
From hill to hill when digging' sang.* 
But I must bid you now adieu — 
Too long, I fear, I've troubled you, 
But if too long, pray do not frown, 
Just send it back or boil it down ; 
And should you meet a friend of mine, 
Just say to him, a friendly line 
Directed to his friend, M. R., 
Will make me happier by far. 



* Ginseng, a small root which was then worth about 25 cents per found. 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. I 93 

THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE: 
OR, ORDER NUMBER ELEVEN. 

To those living in Western Missouri, this Poem needs no explanation, and 
to those not conversant with the facts it is only necessary to say that during 
the great civil war betv/een the Northern and Southern States, Gen. Thomas 
Ewing, on the of 25th August, 1863, issued an order called No. n, command, 
ing and requiring all the citizens of certain counties in Missouri to vacate 
their homes within fifteen days; those who could prove their loyalty being 
permitted to remove into the military posts or to certain parts of Kansas — 
all others to remove from his district, which included the State of Kansas 
and the two western tier of counties in Missouri. In consequenee of which, 
the country by the 10th of September was depopulated, except at or imme- 
diately near the garrisoned towns or posts. 

The book of Exodus you've read — 

That march across the parted sea, 
When Israel, by Moses led, 

Went from Egyptian bondage free ; 
But some there be who never heard 

Of that exode in sixty-three, 
The incidents that then occurred, 

Or how or why it came to be. 

While some remember, some have read, 

And some have heard of Order Eleven, 
When thousands into exile fled, 

And thousands from their homes were driven. 
Then wake my muse, my memory wake, 

Relate that story, sad and true, 
Set nothing down for malice sake, 

Nor with extenuating view, 
. Impartially the tale relate, 

Its incidents of grief detail, 
Those incidents we'll ne'er forget 

Till life with memory shall fail. 



194 RURAL RHYMES. 

Two years, and more, the war had raged, 

The war was raging wildly still, 
And madly was that warfare waged, 

Through summer's heat and winter chill. 
The North and South alike contend, 

With equal ardor, equal zeal, 
While varying fates to each portend 

Alternate woe, alternate weal. 

The cloud which rose in "sixty-one," 

The dark and stormy cloud of war, 
Had darker grown, till moon and sun 

Were hid, and hidden every star. 
The howling storm tempestuous roared, 

And lightnings flashed from crest to crest, 
While chiefly were its torrents poured 

Upon the suffering South and West. 

Missouri's western border lay 

In that tornado's wasting path, 
And near the Kansas line for aye 

It fell in all its greatest wrath. 
'Twas there the cruelties of war 

In broader, deeper currents run — 
'Twas brother 'gainst the brother there, 

And father ranged against the son. 

Though by the Union soldiers bold 

The posts and garrisons were held, 
The many guerrilla bandits told 

The rebel spirit still unquelled. 
And night and day those reckless men 

Were found marauding here and there, 
And, watching for the soldiers then, 

Bushwhacked and fought them everywhere, 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. I 95 

Till Quantrell, Todd, and Anderson, 

And others, such as they, became 
A terror unto many a one 

Who still maintained a loyal fame. 

'Twas said, (I do not know how true, 

But, true or false, the charge was made), 
That citizens, and not a few, 

Were leagued with them, and gave them aid 
And when the soldiers failed entire 

To find or capture such a band, 
They often wreaked their vengeance dire 

Upon some farmer of the land ; 
And this, however much we blame, 

Retaliating vengeance drew, 
And citizens of loyal fame 

In turn were made to suffer too. 

Then, as the contest fiercer grew, 

And Time still rolled his car along, 
Those bold marauders bolder grew 

And greater grew the mighty wrong, 
Until those deeds of blood and sin, 

In August, eighteen sixty-three, 
Most sadly culminated in 

The bloody Lawrence massacre. 

I need not tell that story dread — 

The world, I deem, has known it long — 
But simply state to what it led, 

Another grievous, cruel wrong. 
The agents of the government 

Had many a time, and oft, proclaimed 
That all should suffer banishment 

Who aided those fierce bandits named; 



196 RURAL RHYMES. 

And often times did they declare 
In bitter language, far from chaste, 

That if those guerrillas harbored there, 
They'd lay the rebel region waste. 

Then when the raid on Lawrence came, 

And it was known and told afar, 
That those guerrillas known to fame 

Came from the hills of Sni-a-bar ; 
When it was said by hundreds then, 

(Although it might not all be true), 
That Jackson County long had been 

Their haunt and general rendezvous ; 
That other neighboring counties, too, 

Contributed their sons to swell 
The numbers of that bandit crew, 

And other bandit crews as well. 
It is a truth, no sooner had 

That raid by Quantrell's men been made, 
Than forthwith came that order sad, 

Long threatened and till then delayed. 

Ah ! stern and cruel that decree ! — 

And oh ! how cruel were the fates 
To those whose dwellings chanced to be 

In Jackson County, Cass or Bates. 
Those three ill-fated counties view, 

Which once had been so fair and fine, 
The northern part of Vernon, too, 

All bordering on the Kansas line, 

Those counties which ere war had spread 
It's cruelties so far and wide 

Were famed abroad and which were said, 
To be Missouri's western pride. 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 1 97 

But now this Eden of the West, 

Which smiled in plenteous beauty's bloom, 
Was by this martial order dressed 

In desolation and in gloom ; 
And citizens, howe'er they grieve, 

Of every sex, of every age, 
Were given but fifteen days to leave — 

Ah dark that dark historic page — 
To leave their homes, each cherished home, 

Those homes which gave to some their birth, 
And homeless wanderers to roam 

Upon a sin and blood stained earth. 

Ah hard the trial, hard indeed — 

How well is it remembered yet — 
For those who wandered then in need, 

Those suffering scenes will ne'er forget. 
'Twas hard upon her loyal sons, 

Who still the Union dearly prized, 
'Twas harder on disloyal ones, 

Who with the South had sympathized ; 
But loyal and disloyal too, 

Were by the order called Eleven, 
Compelled to bid their homes adieu — 

Alike were they in exile driven. 

'Tis true, 'twas said in that decree, 

That they who certainly could prove 
A well established loyalty, 

Might to the garrison remove — 
Then some who loyalty did boast, 

And some, who truly loyal were, 
Repaired unto the nearest post, 

To live and be protected there. 



RURAL RHYMES. 



'Twas small protection, they received, 

The most that they of that could boast 
Enrolled as guards, they then relieved 

The soldiers stationed at the post. 
But far the greater number who 

Dwelt in that region doomed to waste, 
Got them from home and country too, 

Perhaps to be no more possessed. 
A sinking heart in every breast, 

In all directions then they moved, 
Towards the North, South, East and West, 

As stern necessity behooved. 
Sad was the spectacle to see, 

And sad and sorrowful the scenes 
Of thousands, forced from home to flee, 

And yet without the needful means. 

The hand of war and theft it seems, 

Before had spoiled and shorn the land, 
And only then the poorest teams 

And carriages were at command ; 
Yea, some there were, with none at all ; 

And they though destitute must go — 
What greater hardships could befall, 

Or be to them a heavier blow, 
The widow and the orphan small, 

The aged, infirm, the sick, the frail 
Without a friend on whom to call, 

Whose sympathy could then avail. 
The time was short, those days fifteen 

Were passing rapidly away, 
Within which time, as has been seen, 

All must that order well obey. 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 1 99 

The needful preparations then 

By night and day were hurried on — 
No Sabbath rest, no Sabbath when 

All peace all quietude had gone ; 
Sleep from the eyelids fled away, 

The mind in tossing to and fro, 
Still ask the question night or day ; 

O whither, whither, shall I go. 

Oh ! how did grief and pain abound 

Through those September nights and days, 
When weary wanderers were found 

On all the roads and public ways, 
On every hand, on every side, 

On every road which outward led 
Was seen the slowly moving tide 

Of those who from that reigon fled, 
Through clouds of dust or burning sand, 

Their weary way they wended slow, 
Away from their dear native land, 

Or homes adopted long ago. 

The staunch old settlers of the West, 

The hardy grey haired pioneers, 
Who here had lived, and here had passed, 

Their many laboring, toiling years. 
The men who thirty years before, 

Had come into the western wild, 
And through whose labors, more and more, 

The wilderness had bloomed and smiled, 
Were sundering now the cherished tie, 

That bound them to those homes so dear — 
More dear as now, fond memory's eye 

Looks back o'er many by-gone year. 



RURAL RHYMES. 

They who had seen in wild alarms, 

This land so wild and waste at first, 
Turned into fair and fruitful farms, 

Ere war, the land had stained and cursed 
They who had seen by slow degrees 

Their numbers once so small increase, 
And who with neighbors kind to please, 

Had lived in harmony and peace ; 
They and those neighbors, now dispersed, 

All gone, all banished, every one, 
The work of thirty years reversed, 

And in a fortnight all undone. 
That country full of golden grain, 

So lately full of flocks and herds, 
A solitary waste again 

Given up to waste, to beast and birds. 

Oh could the hand a picture draw ; 

Or could the eye, but view the whole, 
And see, as the Omniscient saw 

The anguish of each stricken soul ; 
Or see each mournful incident — 

The suffering scenes of sorrow too 
When those thus doomed to banishment, 

Bade home and friends a long adieu ; 
It would have moved the stony heart, 

To sympathize with those who wept, 
Or envy those, who ere the smart, 

In death's cold lasting sleep had slept. 

But human tongue can ne'er repeat, 
No human mind can ever know — 

Or comprehend the aggregate, 
Of such accumulated woe 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 

As then descended like a flood, 

To whelm the stricken soul with grief — 
The souls that manfully withstood 

The storms of sorrow past belief. 

But though no one has seen it all, 
Full many a one has seen his part, 

And dark and heavily the pall 

Of sorrows pressed on many a heart. 

The mother, Oh ! that mother view, 

Whose heart with anguish keen, is riven. 
For distant then her husband true, 

And she and her's in exile driven ; 
She and her little ones must roam — 

No shelter on the broad green earth — 
Their backs are turned upon the home, 

That gave those little children birth. 
How ill prepared, alas are they, 

To move upon the rugged road ; 
No safe conveyance to convey 

Her children from that dear abode : 
Nought but an old and worn out cart. 

Without a bed or box to hold 
Her household goods or any part, 

Or children dearer yet than gold ; 
The wheels, the shafts and axle-tree « 

Were all that then remained of it, 
And as for harness, scarce could she 

A single trace of harness get, 
No covering sheet to shelter them, 

From sun and from inclement skies — 
A hope forlorn that cart did seem, 

To all but the most trusting eyes ; 



RURAL RHYMES. 

Their clothing, bed and other things 

Were in a bundle firmly bound 
Then fastened on the cart with strings, 

And ropes that passed them all around. 
Her jewels then the dearest yet, 

The children of her love and pride, 
Upon the package, there she sat 

And took her station by their side. 
Then guiding still, and urging on, 

The horse so old, so service worn, 
She wept, as they from home were drawn. 

With no fond hopes of a return ; 
How dark and deep was that abyss, 

Of grief and woe, no tongue can tell. 
With others deeper yet than this, 

On which it pains the heart to dwell. 

'Tis true to such hard straits of need, 

Not all— thank Heaven — were then reduced, 
But others worse than this indeed, 

Might then have been and were produced ; 
Yes, there were widows, poor and lone, 

Of earthly friends and help bereft, 
Alone, in the cold world alone, 

With no protecting refuge left, 
Or with dependant daughters there, 

What sadder sight to see than they — 
Not even a horse or cart to bear, 

Their little all of goods away. 
And as they sought some poor abode, 

Beyond that reigon desolate, 
They walked the dusty, crowded road, 

With faltering steps and feeble gait ; 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 207, 

That road with wearied steps they tread, 

Their feet now bare and worn and sore — 
A cow perhaps behind them led, 

Or driven slowly on before ; 
A bundle small, 'tis all they now 

Have strength to bear away from hence; 
Another bound upon the cow, 

Their choice effects the small contents. 

'Twas thus in eighteen sixty three 

When driven from their cherished home, 
The people of those counties three 

As exiles then, were forced to roam ; 
Though sharp and poignant was the sting, 

They yielded to the cruel fates, 
Some went to counties neighboring, 

While others went to distant states, 
The fruits of toil the works of taste, 

As might in truth be well supposed, 
By them abandoned in their haste, 

All, all to ruin left exposed. 

Their houses, farms, and orchards then, 

With many a dear memento graced ; 
The harvested and growing grain, 

Were left to spoil, or go to waste, 
The cherished spots, the peaceful bowers, 

Where infancy had passed away, 
The garden and its blooming flowers, 

Were left to wither and decay. 
Domestic fowls, domestic brutes, 

Of many a favorite breed and kind, 
The vineyard and its luscious fruits — 

All these, and more were left behind — 



2 °4 RURAL RKTMES. 

Yes sadder yet, with objects still 

Than those by far, by far more dear, 

Some parted then who never will, 
Those objects see again, for e'er. 

Sad memory yet, though many suns 

Have run their rounds, will call to mind, 
The day. when fathers, husbands, sons, 

Were to one common grave assigned ; 
When those bereft in anguish deep, 

Were forced to leave their homes and them, 
To sleep in death's cold lasting sleep — 

The autumn winds their requiem. 

Yes memory, backward still will tend 

To that September Sabbath day — 
The time was hasting to an end 

When all must leave or disobey ; 
By far the greatest part had gone — 

A few remained behind, and those 
Made preparation from the dawn, 

To leave before the day should close. 

Those familes but few they were, 

By kindred ties together bound, 
Old citizens together there, 

And few more quiet could be found, 
As preparation still they made, 

The cruel mandate to obey, 
A band of soldiers came and bade 

Those men, to march with them away, 
A little way, scarce out of sight — 

Their place of execution found — 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 205 

Six of the eight were killed outright, 

And left upon the bloody ground,* 
Ah sad and sorrowful- the scene — 

Methinks I see it even now — 
A youth a lad of seventeen 

With smiles upon his sunny brow ; 
A widow's doting son was he, 

Her stay support and comfort then, 
Cold, cold in death that son, and she 

Will see him ne'er on earth again. 
Another man I seem to see 

Of more than three score years and ten, 
The blood upon his hair of gray, 

As it was witnessed even then. 
Two other fathers who had passed 

Their fifty years of life and more ; 
Two younger fathers lifeless cast 

And weltering in life's purple gore. 
All, all cut down, together slain, 

And, oh, cut down at such a time, 
The young, the old, and yet again, 

The men of vigor in their prime, 
Their families, grief stricken now 

Of loved and cherished ones bereft, 
Compelled to leave their homes, but how ? 

Oh ! what of hope or comfort left ? 
Their cup of grief seemed full before 

Of bitterness, even to the brink, 
But now that cup was running o'er, 

And they the bitter draught must drink. 
The floods passed o'er their heads that day 

* This incident occured on the 6th of September 1863, an account of which 
was published in the Missouri Republican, of the nth of the same month. 



206 RURAL RHYMES. 

As wave still follows after wave — 
Scarce help enough had they to lay 
Those loved and lost ones in the grave. 



Let fancy's hand portray the scene, 

And with reality compare — 
The wretched group, with anguish keen, 

Assembled round the fallen there ; 
There hard beside those murdered ones, 

If I may use so harsh a word, 
From widowed wives and orphan son's, 

The wailing notes of grief were heard. 
Imagine now that sire so old, 

Whose grief no balm could soothe or 'suage, 
Three-score and fifteen years had told 

His weary toiling pilgrimage, 
And he in life's long devious way 

Had passed through many a trial sore, 
But in the evening of his day 

A sorer one than e'er before. 
Two son's, his only son's he saw 

Cold, cold in death and side by side, 
A grandson and a son-in-law 

Whose blood the herbage green had dyed ; 
A neighbor kind whose paling suns, 

lake his had passed the noon of life, 
The father of his younger sons, 

Now stricken widowed, weeping wife. 
Another neighboring kinsman too — 

Hard, hard the trial to endure — 
But what his feeble hands could do, 

He did to give them sepulture. 
No neighbors kind his hand to aid, 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 207 

Excepting two whose lives were spared 
And by those hands the slain were laid 

Within the shallow graves prepared ; 
In that rude grave in bloody dress 

Without a dirge or funeral knell, 
They laid them down all coffinless, 

Hard by the spot on which they fell. 
Then leaving them in death's long sleep, 

As now the evening sun declined — 
Oppressed with gloom and sorrows deep 

They left those fallen ones behind. 

Now would you see on fancy's page, 
" That aged sire as forth he led 
The partner of his youth and age, 

The mother of the buried dead ; 
She who for fifty years and more, 

Had borne with him life's toils and cares. 
Then with him came from out the door, 

Where they had lived for thirty years. 
Ah yes, and see those widows too — 

Five widows all so lately made, 
Deprived in one short hour or two 

Of those on whom their hopes were stayed ; 
With sinking and desponding mind, 

And weeping orphans gathered round, 
They bid adieu to all behind, 

Not knowing where, or whither bound. 
I see the mournful cavalcade, 

The small procession moving slow — 
As hastened on the evening shade, 

When evening sun was sinking low. 
With preparation badly made, 

Conveyances both small and rude, 



208 RURAL RHYMES. 

A long adieu, again they bade, 
And all behind was solitude. 

No fancy sketch nor idle dream, 
The incidents my pen relates. 

How many citizens I deem, 

In Jackson county, Cass and Bates, 

Can now go back in memory — 
Call up those griefs so manifold, 

And testify, and say with me 

The half has never yet been told. 

That gloomy fortnight passed away — 

The wheel of time still moving on, 
And when expired the fifteenth day, 

The suffering citizens were gone ; 
The mandate had been well obeyed, 

Depopulation's work was done, 
And ruin's hand not long delayed, 

E're its destructive work began. 

Deprived of its bold peasantry, 

The land to hastening ills a prey ; 
Gone all that brought prosperity — 

How swift how rapid its decay : 
And where was that bold peasantry — 

The country's wealth the country's pride- 
When one short month had passed away ? 

Dispersed and scattered far and wide : 
Those who together dwelt for years, 

Some who had been together nursed, 
Far sundered, and those pioneers 

In different regions all dispersed. 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 209 

'Mongst strangers in a land of strife, 
Their suffering lots apart were cast, 

And bitter was that bitter life, 
Contrasted with the by-gone past. 

As when to Babylon the Jews, 

Were borne a conquered captive band; 
They sat beneath the willow trees, 

And mourned a desolated land. 
So did Missouri's exiles then, 

In eighteen hundred sixty-three ; 
With heavy hearts, go sighing when 

Their harps they hung upon the tree. 

The hymns of praise, which long ago, 

With true devotion they had sung, 
When now essayed, would sink so low, 

And faltering die upon the tongue. 
The bosom oft would heave with pain, 

Or from the eye would start the tears 
When e'er that well remembered strain 

Of " Home sweet home," fell on the ear. 
Full well the joys of happy homes ; 

Could they in truth appreciate, 
When they were homeless, and their homes 

Were empty, waste and desolate. 

How wild and desolate the scene 

Which then appeared unto the view ; 
A solitary waste was seen 

By travellers in passing through. 
From north to south for eighty miles, 

The length of that deserted land ; 
That land which once was decked in smiles, 

Lay lonely as the desert sand. 



RURAL RHYMES. 

Except near garrison or post, 

No sign of civil life was seen ; 
A passing traveler at most, 

And they now few and far between. 
But bands of soldiers raided o'er 

The land in desso'ation dressed; 
And guerrilla bandits as before, 

Did still the wasted land infest. 
The goods and chattels which had been, 

For want of transportation left, 
Were taken by marauders then, 

Or by the cowardly hand of theft. 

Another dire affliction sore, 

Soon fell on that ill fated land ; 
Which spread unchecked the country o'er, 

With nought its progress to withstand. 
'Twas after frosts of autumn came, 

And killed the grass and herbage green ; 
When sun and winds had dried the same, 

The raging prairie fires were seen. 
They swept across the prairies wide, 

And through the farms deserted there, 
The billowy flames, like ocean's tide, 

And left them fenceless, brown and bare 
The houses, farms and orchards too, 

Were, by the conflagration dire, 
Consumed in places not a few, 

And nought remains but marks of fire. 

The labors of the yeomanry; 

The fruits of many years of toil ; 
In one brief hour all swept away 

From off the bare and blackened soil. 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 

Tis sad to contemplate the scene, 

'Twas sadder then that scene to view ; 

The land in nakedness was seen, 
With nought its verdure to renew. 

'Twas then when weeks had come and gone, 

Since first the exodus began, 
There came at chill November dawn, 

With wearied steps, an aged man, 
Returning, as it were by stealth 

To where misfortune dire had come, 
To view the wreck of former wealth, 

To see a desolated home. 

The fencing round his farms was gone ; 

The fire had swept it all away, 
And hurrying through the orchard on, 

Had left it withering in decay. 
The dwelling, which with youthful hands, 

Long time ago, he builded there ; 
Now lay in ashes, coals and brands, 

The wreck of earthly visions fair. 
His barns and graineries no more ; 

His crops of grain and hay consumed : 
A visage dark the land scape waste, 

Which in its beauty lately bloomed. 

Another one who in his haste 

Had left his flocks and herds behind, 
Returned when weeks away had passed, 

To seek and save what he could find ; 
Than some by far more fortunate, 

He found his lonely dwelling there : 
But oh, how darkly desolate, 

That dwelling and surroundings were. 



RURAL RHYMES. 

He passed through each now empty room,* 

Which echoed back his voice again ; 
A solitude so full of gloom, 

Where e'er he turned, appeared to reign. 
And still, that silence so intense, 

Was rendered deeper, more profound, 
By knowing all were banished hence ; 

That this was now forbidden ground. 
The crowing of domestic fowls, 

The bleating of the flocks of sheep, 
The bark of dogs, their solemn howls, 

Appeared to make the gloom more deep. 
The herds of cattle, sheep, and hogs, 

In those few weeks so wild had grown, 
They fled away and even dogs 

Would scarce the masters presence own. 

The fencing down, his farm seemed lost ; 

All wasting his ungathered grain ; 
While orchard fruits, touched by the frost,. 

Lay rotting in the sun and rain. 
He visited the home so lone, 

Of those who once his neighbors were ; 
But they those neighbors kind were gone,. 

And none to bid him welcome there ; 
For though the doors were open then, 

The rooms all tenantless he found; 
While gloomy silence reigned within, 

And wasting solitude around, 
'Twas lonely, lonely everywhere, 

Upon the then untravelled roads ; 



See the Exiles Lament. 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 

But lonelier, more lonely far 
In those untenanted abodes. 

He passed the little village through, 

He walked its lone and silent streets ; 
That street was then deserted too, 

And bore no marks of human feet. 
Abandoned every dwelling place ; 

Abandoned every shop and store ; 
And desolations frowning face, 

Seemed scowling out from every door. 

He passed the church, that sacred place 

Where often he had bowed in prayer ; 
But weeks and months had fled apace, 

Since worshippers had assembled there. 
How many months, or years complete, 

How many, many, weary days, 
Before those worshippers shall meet 

Within that church for prayer and praise. 

Another one, when chillingly 

Cold winter spread his manttle o'er 
That land deserted, came to see, 

The home where he had dwelt before. 
The snows of winter cold and deep, 

Around and on each dwelling lay ; 
As o'er the rough unbroken sweep, 

Through driving snows he made his way. 
The howling storm blocked up his way ; 

He felt the cold's intensity. 
Ah, who can e'er forget that day, 

The last of eighteen sixty-three, 
No cheerful blazing fire were there, 

Within the dwellings which he passed ; 



2I 4 RURAL RHYMES. 

But empty, cheerless, bleak and bare, 

As round them howled the bitter blast. 
Successively, he passed them by, 

The hospitable homes of men, 
Who ne'er will perhaps occupy 

Those hospitable homes again. 
And as those cheerless homes he passed, 

His thoughts so sad, still sadder grew, 
Till his own home he reached at last, 

To find it lone and cheerless too. 
The wailings of the dying year; 

The winds from out the evenings gloom ; 
The only sounds to greet his ear, 

The only welcome to his home. 

" It was not always thus," he sighed 

"There was a time nor long ago, 
' ' Ere war upon secession tide, 

"Brought desolation, death and woe; 
"That from this now deserted hearth, 

" The light of cheerfulness was spread ; 
" When wife and children joined their mirth 

"With friends, now numbered with the dead. 
"But they, those happy days, have flown, 

" And now the days are dark and drear ; 
" While in my empty house alone, 

" I wait and watch the dying year." 

'Twas there in days gone by, that he 
And those he loved and held most dear, 

Had watched with hope's expectancy, 
The coming of a bright new year. 

But oh, how changed, no prattling tongue, 
Was heard within the tempest's pause; 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 215 

No childish hand, its stockings hung 

To catch the gifts of Santa Claus. 
And when the new year morn appeard ; 

A colder one sure never blew ; 
A colder wind had never stirred 

The leafless groves he hurried through; 
As burthened with his griefs and woes, 

And blinded by his tears and pain, 
Returning through the drifted snow, 

He sought his loved ones once again. 

'Twas later in times calendar, 

While winter yet held vigorous reign ; 
There walked the hills of Sniabar, 

A female known, as crazy Jane. 
Poor crazy Jane, 'twas long ago, 

And in the sunny morn of life, 
She came where Sni's clear waters flows ; 

And there became a loving wife. 
To husband, and to children too, 

Loves silken cord then bound her heart. 
Ill fortune cut that cord in two, 

And bore those loving ones apart. 

Time passed, she lived, but reason fled, 

A harmless maniac was she ; 
From place to place she went, 'twas said. 

To seek her long lost children three. 
She went, she came without debar, 

And strangers often times would meet. 
Poor crazy Jane, of Sniabar, 

On public road or village street. 

At intervals of time and space — 
The weather foul, the weather fair. 



2l6 RURAL RHYMES. 

Would find her near the old home place, 
Still wandering back and foward there 

An interval of years had passed, 

Since they had seen her face so plain, 
And citizens had almost ceased 

To speak or think of crazy Jane. 
But when the land was lying waste, 

And all its citizens were gone ; 
She came, those paths again she traced ; 

Still by those strange impulses drawn. 
The last, last visit to the home, 

Where she had passed youth's happy days, 
The last, last time her feet will roam 

The old and still remembered ways. 

It never, never can be known, 

How far, how long she wandered there, 
For she was all alone, alone, 

With none to witness her despair. 
A few there were, some very few, 

Who in their solitary way, 
When passing that lone desert through, 

Had met the hopless Mrs. Gray. 
And piteously she made complaint, 

That none to her would ope the door, 
Though she from hunger then was faint, 

And from the cold was suffering sore. 

Night followed night ; day followed day ; 

And still she wandered up and down ; 
Still father on she made her way, 

Beyond the then deserted town. 
On, onward still, her footsteps tend, 

She walked as through a wilderness ; 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 217 

No human eye to see the end 

Of that lone journey of distress. 
That journey ended, when or how, 

The great Omniscient only knows ; 
All that we know, or can know now, 

It ended ere the winter's close. 

Within a farmer's dwelling lone, 

Beyond the County's southern bound, 
Up in a garret, there is shown 

The spot where crazy Jane was found. 
That dwelling lone, that garret cold 

Had witnessed her expiring breath ; 
But they, nor aught will e'er unfold 

The secret of that lonely death. 
Whether by wasting and disease, 

Whether by hunger, thirst or cold ; 
Or from a cause more sad than these, 

Has never yet, nor will be told. 

But yet imagination keen. 

Can pierce the darkness and the gloom, 
And vividly portray the scene 

Of death in that small upper room ; 
Or taking wings, the spirit trace 

From garret cold to shining Heaven ; 
Where joys eternal took the place 

Of suffering caused by order Eleven. 

But time would fail, we need not dwell, 

Or longer yet delineate, 
The pains and hardships which befell 

Those in that region situate. 
But many thousands yet there be, 



2l8 RURAL RHYMES. 

Who travel o'er those scenes in thought; 
Troublous scenes of sixty-three, 

Which order number Eleven wrought. 
By military force constrained, 

All drank of that same bitter cup : 
Some to the dregs, the goblet drained, 

And swallowed every bitter drop. 
And did they suffer thus for nought, 

Enduring ills with fortitude ? 
Was order Eleven only fraught 

With ill, without attendant good ? 

We may not say, for human ken 

Can never see within the shade, 
And tell what evils might have been 

Had that stern order ne'er been made ; 
But those who witnessed those events; 

Those thousand hearts with sorrows riven, 
All viewed them as the consequence, 

Of Ewing's order number Eleven. 

And if it should be said to-day, 

As some perhaps will say it should, 
That private interest should not weigh 

Against the general public good; 
That all those separate griefs and woes 

Were given with the best intent, 
To rid the land of public foes, 

And benefit the government. 

We ask shall government benign, 
Take what our bill of rights defends, 

And private property assign 
To public use without amends. 



THE EXODUS OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-THREE. 2IO 

Shall they those loyal pioneers, 

Who long ago, this region sought, 
Who labored and who toiled for years, 

On lands so wild, which then they bought. 
Bought from that government which late, 

By agents drove them homeless hence. 
Must they now bow, yield to their fate, 

Nor dare to ask a recompense. 
And will that government, for which 

The sacrifice was asked and made, 
Deny to all, deny to each, 

The claim so just, so long delayed. 
Forbid it Heaven, oh justice wake, 

No longer let thy hands withhold 
The means, which well applied might make 

Amends, for ills so manifold. 



-r%4%%&!^- 



INDEX. 



Page. 

To the Reader 3 

Written in a Lady's Album 5 

A World of Change is This 6 

Death of a Friend in 1856 7 

To a Friend 8 

The Snow-Flake 9 

Vanity of Vanities; All is Vanity 11 

Passing Away 12 

Why should Vain Mortals be Proud? 13 

Twenty Years Past 15 

I'm Sitting by Your Side, Mary 17 

Life and Death 19 

Immortality ; or, Answer to Life and Death 20 

I am Standing by Your Grave, Mary .• . . . 21 

Hope Deferred 23 

Faith, Hope and Charity 24 

To an Absent Son. ... 25 

Willie's Grave, 26 

The Song of the Sea Shell 28 

Whiskey, Whiskey, 'Tis a Curse 29 

Intemperance 3 2 

The Problem 4 1 

The Fisherman's Law-suit 43 

Dorr Morrison's Ride ; or, John Gilpin the II 46 

Double Acrostic 56 

Acrostic 57 

Acrostic 58 

Acrostic — Double 59 

Parody on a Well-known Hymn 60 

The Moon 60 



11 INDEX. 

The Orphan's Lot ■ 65 

The Child's Dream 67 

The Exile's Lament 69 

You've Sung of Greenland's Mountains 71 

Abraham's Lament 73 

Joseph and His Brethren 75 

David and Goliath 92 

David's Three Mighty Men, 112 

David's Lamentation for Saul and Jonathan 117 

Preaching to the Ninevites 119 

The Horrors of Civil War 122 

The Battle of Lone Jack , 128 

Spottsylvania's Wilderness 130 

The Homesick Soldier 132 

The Bandit's Dream; or, Hills of Sniabar 134 

The Dying Soldier at Lone Jack 140 

The Soldier from the Kansas Line 144 

The Faded Banner; or, Hope Forlorn 148 

The Watchman ; or, Burden of Dumah 150 

The Cruel War is Over 152 

The Lonely Tree " 155 

The Prisoner 160 

Scenes of My Childhood 163 

Forty Years Ago — Now and Then *. . . 167 

The Old Fashioned Preacher 175 

The Old Cabin Home. ■••... 177 

The Early Settlers 1 79 

The Contrast 182 

Address to the Grangers 184 

Letter to an Editor . . . . 187 

Exodus of 1863 ; or, Order No. Eleven • 193 




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